


Straw Man

by Wheels_on_fire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cruelty, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Kidnapping, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Torture, Sexual Abuse, Slavery, Torture, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 177,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheels_on_fire/pseuds/Wheels_on_fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative universe where Bellatrix was not born a pureblood but she still manages to attract the Dark Lord's attention. Set during the first wizarding war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jubilant and boisterous shouts and exclamations reverberated through the darkened manor. The Dark Lord Voldemort put down his glass and moved to his raised seat, making himself comfortable before the doors to the room burst open.  
He had spent the last two hours in contemplation as he awaited the return of his followers from their latest mission. Normally he would busy himself with other work as a distraction, sitting around was a shameful waste of his time. This task however had taken months of planning and if properly executed, would serve a lethal blow to his opponents. 

The candlelight lit up the white masks of his followers as they entered the room, splatters of blood marring some of them. They marched in, forming an orderly regiment with bound haggard prisoners dragged along. 

He watched imperiously from his throne, he was pleased they had obviously more than succeeded in their mission but he made sure no indication of his satisfaction reached his face. The death eaters lined the prisoners up as best they could in the room, a few were unconscious or stupefied so had been dumped more or less in order with the others. The others were shaking in fear, keeping their eyes to the ground as if to deny who they had been brought before. Once his followers had the captives positioned they bowed in subservience. One among them came forward, his heavy boots scuffed the shiny wood floor and he inelegantly bent to the floor. 

“My Lord, we have returned from our mission.”

The Dark Lord waited a beat before he answered, giving the stout man enough time to wonder if he had even been heard. 

“Yes, I am aware.” His cold voice made the younger man flinch. He stretched out the silence again, the fear radiating off the prisoners (and his followers) was practically palpable. A cursory glance at the line of shuffling, cowering prisoners showed there were about thirteen of them. Curious.

“You have brought more than I was anticipating.”

The masked man nodded enthusiastically, clearly mistaking quantity with quality. “Yes, my Lord. A few others decided to join in the fighting so we overwhelmed them and brought them here as well.” The young man lifted his hand to remove his mask. A sharp remark paused him.

“Do not remove that.” 

He would not risk the identity of one of his most loyal servants for nothing and the fate of all the captives was yet undecided. He schooled his voice to become less hostile. “You have done well my faithfuls, you will be rewarded.”

He stood to his full height, it gave him a sense of pleasure to see both his prisoners and followers shrink back and he slowly, gracefully made his way to the pitiful things. Whimpering and shuffling noises were the only things that could be heard. 

The first prisoner was unconscious, a deep gash to the man’s forehead the obvious cause. It was a waste really.

“You are all talented witches and wizards, led astray by the lies of the light. Step forward any one of you who wishes to join me, this will be your only chance.”

Voldemort waited a beat, a few of them shifted awkwardly — considering. As he was about to continue, a bloodied young woman limped forward, blonde hair matted in crimson and a shoulder hanging at a grotesque angle. “Please, please, I will join. Please have mercy.”

Tears spilled down her face as she beseeched him. She didn’t even have time to recoil as a streak of green light hit her and she dropped with a thump heavily to the wooden floor. 

“Unfortunately, we are not currently looking for mudbloods to fill out our ranks.” 

His servants chuckled with restraint at the remark, the prisoners had become even more tense if it was possible. He wasn’t even sure if his victim actually was a mudblood. She must have been one of the extras brought along by his death eaters. Regardless, he preferred at least a shred of loyalty in his servants - she would not have lasted long.

With a careful step he walked along the line of prisoners, nodding approvingly at a few of the familiar faces. Marlene McKinnon, he had been keen for a while to put her out of action. As with all the prisoners, she avoided his gaze and seemed to stare blankly into the distance. Beside her was Trevor McLintock and his wife, both commentators with the Daily Prophet that had refused to write in favour of their pureblood rhetoric. He did not recognise the young man beside them, he looked to still be a teenager. 

“And what do they call you?”

The boy was trembling so much he thought he was going to fall over. The Dark Lord would almost have wagered his undivided attention had caused the young lad to piss himself.

“I-I…”

The ashen boy stuttered dreadfully, the Dark Lord almost had an urge to just kill him then and there. “Well? Have you forgotten your own name, you fool?”

“T-thomas Carmichael.”

His lip curled back in disgust at the name, so similar to the one he had been afflicted with. All the more reason to make the boy suffer, but that would come in good time.

Thomas let out a deep breath when he started moving again to pass Alice Longbottom, stupefied and laying in a heap on the ground. Her small frame and short mousy hair belied the ferocity he knew her to be capable of. Beside her had been the dead woman, he sidestepped her corpse, left in an undignified pose. Past them was Dorcas Meadowes and a man he assumed to be her fiancee - a simple muggle that should have been left for dead rather than brought to his home. Unfortunately initiative was often one of the most difficult things to instil in his servants.

His eyes swept over the two Livingstone brothers, barely graduated from Hogwarts, before they landed on another unexpected prisoner. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed her before now, her thick ebony hair and striking face drew the eyes against their will. Blood still oozed from her bottom lip and she trembled slightly as he gazed down at her even though her eyes were downcast. The man beside her was sobbing silently but he paid no attention. 

“I have to congratulate my followers, they really did manage a fine, unexpected catch today.” He turned to his followers and noticed them nodding at each other smugly - always so desperate for approval. He returned his piercing gaze to the young woman trembling before him. “I have to say I am surprised to see a Black here — you must be the famous Bellatrix.” With a smirk to himself he continued. “Or perhaps I should say, infamous?”

She gave no acknowledgement that she had even heard her name, never mind the question but he paid no attention. He had of course heard of her before, an exceptional member of the Black family — in every sense of the meaning. A well educated witch and a total outcast. The only member of the Black family to be raised in the household despite less than pure blood. It was fascinating really given the families ruthless adherence to blood purity. He couldn't help imagine, she must be somewhat special. An inexplicable sense of excitement had grown inside him and he moved back to his throne but did not sit down. 

“Within the next few hours, you will all be dead.” A desperate moan was heard but he ignored it. He would be having his fun today. “As there are more of you here than I had initially anticipated, I have decided to be merciful.”

He noticed a ripple spread through their numbers, a tiny sliver of hope enough to excite them. “One of you will be spared. One of you will be able to return and give a message to those fools that are rallying against me. But who shall it be?”

Lord Voldemort considered them all, as if he hadn’t already decided. He was however surprised when one of them stepped forward. The death eaters levelled their wands at the unarmed woman.

“Ahh, are you volunteering Miss McKinnon?” 

She raised her eyes to him, fury blazing in them as she clenched her hands at her sides and spat vehemently. “You can do what you want to us, Dumbledore and the Order will rise up against you. We will destroy you and all your pathetic followers! Everyone of us you kill, more will spring up to bring you down, you bastard!”

He had to admire her really. She had been brought face to face with evil and refused to lie down. Nevertheless he motioned to his deatheaters, who immediately hexed her to the ground and dragged her towards his throne. She lay between the two men with tears running down her face as she tried to suppress the pain from the boils that had erupted on her skin. 

He returned to the rest of the them. “I think you shall be the lucky one Miss Black. You were not originally chosen to die here today.” 

The dark haired woman didn’t raise her head but he noticed the slightest widening of her eyes. It gave him some small amount of pleasure to shock her - he would see how shocked he could make her with the other prisoners. 

“Come.

He motioned her to approach him but she hadn’t seen it. After a beat she raised her head to him, confusion and fear entrenched in her face. As her eyes met his own dispassionate ones, she looked straight back down in terror. He realised she had become paralysed by fear. 

As much as he enjoyed inciting such mindless terror in her, he despised disobedience and with a twitch of his wand sent a cutting curse her way. She hissed as it grazed her cheek, blood immediately leaking from the straight cut. 

“Come here now.”

Gracefully she stepped forward, he noticed her glance sideways at the corpse as she trembled. Unsure, she continued to approach until she was level with Marlene and her two guards. 

“Now, Bellatrix. You are a guest, come sit here, I don’t want you miss a single thing.”

With faux hospitality he conjured a simple, small wooden stool to the left of his huge throne and motioned her to sit as he did the same. She froze again for a moment and he watched her warring thoughts. He did not need the assistance of legilimency to see how his civility was baffling her, how her fear and disgust were fighting her survival instincts. 

Just as he was wondering if he would have to curse the stupid woman again, she stumbled forward, every step anticipating some trickery. When she made to sit at last, he noticed with amusement that she held herself clenched up, expecting attack. 

From this angle he could see she had obviously been hit in the back, blood soaked through the torn dark blue dress. Three deep gashes marred the pale skin. His attention was pulled away as his most senior servant stepped up to his right and cleared his throat nervously and whispered. 

“My Lord. I do not mean to question your choices but I feel I must inform you. Although she was not part of the Order, or one of our targets, she engaged us in battle. She held off three of your followers and was only subdued when I approached her from behind.” 

He noticed his other followers looked bewildered at his decision to have her sat beside him. 

“Are you scared of her?” He smirked mockingly at the man whom he was sure was reddening beneath his mask. “She is a woman. An untrained civilian. And now she will be a simple messenger. There is no need for you to feel threatened, unless of course there is something you want to share." His keen gaze barely concealed his smugness.

The death eater nodded reverently before stepping back, remaining on his right side. Once again, he returned his cold piercing gaze to Marlene McKinnon. She returned his look with unbridled hatred. 

“Well I think its time we put on a show for our young guest now, don’t you agree? Whose up first?” 

The death eaters all glanced at each other until one decided to step forward. It was a thickset man - likely Travers but he wasn't bothered about finding out. A brown wand was drawn and levelled at Marlene, who had attempted to shuffle away to no avail. 

Awaiting a final nod from his master, he moved his wand in a complicated pattern. “Filthy bloodtraitor. I am going to enjoy this. Deglubo ferveo.”

Within seconds piercing screams erupted from Marlene as she unsteadily lifted her hands to see the cause of her pain. He smiled as he watched the skin on hands and arm burn and crisp before flaking off leaving bare tissue beneath. Her arms shook in agony and her head fell back unable to look at the damage anymore. 

His eyes strayed to the woman beside him, she was straining with tension, her knuckles white as she held her arms wrapped around herself. Although he was much more keen on just ending a life - killing was always so much more efficient- he enjoyed a healthy amount of torture. The psychological torment was giving him much greater satisfaction than the anguished screams before him, why did he not do this more often?

“Lacerato.”

The spell was fired off twice in quick succession as the death eater walked around his fallen victim. She yowled and clutched her face, it was a moment before she dropped her ravaged hands a little to give them a view of her gravely wounded eyes. Bright shining blue eyes had been replaced with deep, bloodied gashes. 

Marlene shifted around and started to crawl, bloodied handprints smeared all over the floor, unaware that she was slowly creeping toward his seat. His follower walked up beside her and pressed down on the centre of her back with his heavy boot, stopping her progress. Pinned down he swung his wand, a blast of the cruciatous curse had her convulsing below him. The pain seemed to entirely overwhelm her for a few moments, there was a beat of silence when the sobs of prisoners could be heard before a tortured screech made them all flinch. 

Half a minute under the curse had her trembling with aftershocks, pink froth foaming at her mouth. Weakly she mumbled but he couldn’t hear anything distinguishable. 

“Begging for mercy yet scum?”

The death eater stepped back, he seemed disappointed that the woman was beyond comprehension. With a last bored flick of his wand fire shot out of his wand and the blinded woman went ablaze. 

After a few harrowing minutes Marlene finally died, thick smoke billowed off her lifeless body. Lord Voldemort vanished the still flaming corpse and nodded approvingly at his follower. 

The acrid smell of smoke remained in the large room, a perfect setting for an afternoon of torture. He glanced at his guest and noticed she had covered her eyes with her hands, her long ebony hair had fallen across her face to shield her as she shook. She struggled to suppress gagging at the sounds and smells of burning flesh.

He pointed at another death eater that was lounging at the side of the room before waving at the next prisoner. “You, you're up next.”

The death eater collected his reluctant prize as the Dark Lord leant over. “You cannot be a true messenger if you don’t witness everything.”

Bellatrix immediately stiffened at his harsh whispered voice and brought her hands away from her face. He noticed faint tear tracks on her cheeks and he briefly wondered if she had known the dead woman. 

“No, no that won’t do.” His voice was low and deceptively jovial. “I will have to ensure you don't miss a thing, I want my enemies to know exactly what we are capable of.”

He slowly pulled out his wand, she thought he was going to torture her next. The thought made him smirk but he merely flicked his wand. Her body shifted back into a rigid position, hands held awkwardly in her lap and face angled straight towards the next victim. Her hair still acted as a barrier but he didn’t know any spells that would work on hair — not without ripping it out anyway.

He reached out to push her hair back behind her shoulders. She was blinking rapidly in her fixed position and he knew if she hadn’t been frozen, she would have flinched back. It was soft and obviously well cared for, he was a little perturbed he had noticed so turned back to the waiting death eater. 

With a stiff nod the torture resumed. The ringing of screams continued in the room as his followers slowly made their way through the prisoners. Some were definitely more creative than others and there was great variation in how long the captives lasted - Alice Longbottom setting the record at about an hour under the skilful wand of Dolohov. 

By the time the last person had been extinguished, his guest had become absolutely ashen. There was a far off glaze to her eyes — the odd delight of forcing her to watch had left him now. 

“I hope we have provided you with ample entertainment Ms Black. Now there is only one thing left to do.”

He indicated to his right hand and the senior follower stalked over to her stool. The spell freezing her had been broken and she fell forward with a clumsy, heavy thump. The stern death eater grabbed a handful of the back of her torn dress and dragged her across the floor in front of him, the seams straining and ripping under the tension. 

The dark lord stood to his full imposing height above her, pleased that her lower lip quivered in fear and she trembled pathetically."Please." He wasn't surprised by her tearful begging, she had endured witnessing the cruelty and might of his followers. It stood to reason that the Dark Lord would be even more sadistic.

“Lord Voldemort has shown you great mercy today. For this privilege you must return to Dumbledore and his pitiful rebels. You must inform them of what you have seen today.” He tapped his wand gently on his hand. “Of course I also need you to tell them of my power.”

He took a step forward and her eyes widened in fear. She attempted to shuffle back but made little progress. “There is only one way you can tell them that. Crucio.”

The red bolt knocked her flat to the ground where she flailed around like a fish out of water. Her screams were like music to his ears, the terrorised screams sent tingles down his back. 

How long would she be able to last? Part of him wanted to test her but what would have been the use of keeping her alive if she was a turned into a babbling fool. With some reluctance he ended the curse. 

Slowly her eyes opened, completely dazed as her chest heaved with effort of breathing. It would take a little while for her to regain her senses. 

“You, Travers.” The young death eater rushed forward at his call. “Take her away, dump her somewhere in the city. I don't want her left somewhere she can come to harm from those filthy muggles, otherwise this was all for nought. Now go.”

Under his watchful eye, the pair disappeared with a loud pop. Now to reassign his death eaters before they became complacent. There was little time to celebrate small victories.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Lord Voldemort flicked over the next fragile page as he skimmed the contents of the heavy old tome. The dining room was entirely lit by soft flickering candlelight as he lazily searched through the delicate book on ancient wizarding genealogy. He was researching the Moody family, one member of which was proving a constant thorn in his side. 

Alastor Moody was a young, prolific auror with a close friendship with Albus Dumbledore. He was likely connected with the newly formed resistance group and absolutely needed neutralising.  
Unfortunately, he seemed impossible to reach and the young man did not seem to have any close relations with anyone apart from Dumbledore. He was amicable with colleagues but otherwise didn’t appear to have any friends or partners. It was a bit of a stretch but he was hoping a look into his family may reveal a weakness. 

He took a sip of the goblin coffee he had brewed and let out a bored sigh. It was practically tar and most wizards would never drink it — the taste far too bitter and strong. Unfortunately his various explorations into dark magic had left him with a slightly blunted sense of taste and the pungent flavour suited him well. Plus it was guaranteed no one else would ever accidentally drink it. 

The records on the Moody’s were stingy to say the least. A Scottish family, Alastor Moody was the only living child, an older sister had died in infancy before he was born. His father had been killed by dark wizards whilst he had also been working as an auror and his mother had passed away a couple of years ago at a healthy old age. Fighting dark wizards appeared to be a family occupation as a number of generations had been involved with aurors from its earliest conception. 

It didn’t yield much in the way of useful information. Only a second cousin that had relocated to Canada a decade ago. With mild annoyance he flicked the pages again, passing numerous famed and the occasional extinct family. He stopped when he landed on the G’s - it lay open on House of Gaunt. Slowly he traced a finger along the spidery family tree, it wasn’t the first time he had looked at it. The last two entries were Merope and Morfin Gaunt - he had never been made an entry in the book, something he had once been furious about. Now he was grateful, he did not want his name - Tom Riddle written anywhere near the pureblood family tree. He didn’t want to make it easy for anyone to connect him to his past. 

Voldemort smirked as a particularly familiar paragraph caught his eye. Members of the House of Gaunt often claimed to be direct descendent’s of Salazar Slytherin himself, a supposition that is impossible to prove. Many believed this claim to be a desperate attempt to garner influence and power as the family continued to sink into disrepute and poverty. 

If only they knew — the blood of Slytherin had run in their veins, it was the only gift he had inherited from them. He thought momentarily of the locket he still had in his possession, just waiting for the perfect time to be used. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he found his mind wandering.

He decided not to think too much about it as he again flicked the pages to the front, it opened in the middle of the chapter he had been looking for. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.

Skipping to the end of the chapter he took a moment to admire the delicate small portraits of the last generations. He looked up instinctively to ensure there was no one around to see him before he flipped over to the family tree. It was a long intricate design, he knew they kept meticulous records of their pure line (with a few extras thrown in). A number of them had asterisks beside them and when he glanced at the bottom of the page he realised it was the members that had been removed from the official Black tree. 

It was a few pages until he reached the latest generation of the family, he was immediately drawn to the dashed red line from Cygnus to Bellatrix Black. He was surprised to see the faint name of Lucius Malfoy, a devout death eater until he remembered his wife Narcissa had obviously been a Black. He tried to conjure up an image of the woman in his mind and found he couldn’t see much of a resemblance between her and Bellatrix. There was a star beside each of Narcissa’s sisters, it seemed Lucius got the only one that hadn’t been disowned. 

His eyes flitted down until he found the paragraph he was interested in. With another suspicious glance to unsure he did not have company and downing the last bitter taste of his coffee, he read. 

Bellatrix Black is a most unusual member of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. She is the only recognised illegitimate member and the only non-pureblood relation to be raised in a Black household. Bellatrix was born in 1951, the eldest daughter of Cygnus Black and an unknown, possibly halfblood woman who died when she was just an infant. It is rumoured the young girl was brought into the home due to Cygnus’s concerns that his wife, Druella Black nee Rosier, was unable to conceive an heir for him. Three years later Andromeda Black (also disowned), closely followed by Narcissa Black (now Malfoy) were born. Little is known about how closely Bellatrix’s upbringing followed a typical pureblood childhood but she was disowned in 1970, just a few months after Andromeda had been disowned.

He leant back in his chair again as he digested what he had read. Much of it wasn’t new to him, he had met Cygnus and Orion on several occasions and had received funding from the pair of them. He had heard all the rumours about the dark family, most were just flat out ridiculous but he knew that it was only due to their immense wealth and power that they had been able to keep Bellatrix and not get dragged down through the mud as well.

Of course by the time he had gained support from the Black brothers, Bellatrix had long been disowned and her name - along with her sisters, was never mentioned in his presence. He noticed with interest that Orion’s son, the one that hadn’t been disowned, was finally of age. He hadn’t been able to recruit the older men as anything more than fundraisers but a young pureblood boy would be more open to an active role in his army. 

He ruffled the pages back to the small watercolour portraits. He recognised Cygnus immediately, the picture much more youthful than when they had met. His wife was almost the mirror image of Lucius’s wife, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection before. It was Bellatrix next, black curls pulled back neatly and eyes gazing intensely out at him. The pictures, unlike classical wizard portraits, were immobile. This only made her expression and countenance more ambiguous; the intense, almost stern expression at odds with the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. 

With a scowl Voldemort slammed the ancient book closed. He felt an odd mixture of shame and guilt at staring at the picture, emotions he was unfamiliar and angry at having. He pushed the book away from him and stood to pace, he needed to diffuse some of the energy that had built up inside of him. 

There was only one thing he could occupy himself with now. He always needed more followers and the son and heir of a powerful house such as Black would be an ideal place to start.


	2. Chapter 2

 

“M-my Lord. Severus Snape has arrived to see you, Sir.”

Lord Voldemort looked up from the papers he had been intensely studying to peer at the young woman stood before him. Her head was bowed so all he could see of her was her soft mousy brown hair and the faint shaking of her clasped hands. Mina Lestrange was a pale, wispy creature that was afraid of her own shadow, her simple grey dress only drained the last of the colour from her. She absolutely avoided him as best she could manage but as he was currently a guest at Lestrange manor, she had become an unwilling hostess. 

“Send him in.”

She nodded gratefully and scampered from the room. He watched her retreat, shaking his head in wonderment. Mina Lestrange had come from the Selwyn family — raised a pureblood but had seemed to have lost all her grace and manner. All of the wives of his death eaters feared him — as did his followers themselves but decorum always forced them to treat him as an honoured guest. Mina however seemed to effectively melt into the walls, a walking shadow around her own home, avoiding all interactions as best she could.

He almost felt sorry for Rodolphus. Who could bear to practically have a ghost as a wife? No wonder they were childless, the ordeal would almost certainly suck out the last of her vitality. 

The door shuddered open and his loyal death eater stepped into the room, ensuring it was closed firmly behind him. With a flick of his wand he made sure they would not be overhead by any would-be eavesdroppers. 

“My Lord.”

Snape strode up to him and bowed respectfully, waiting to be addressed.

“Ah, Severus. I hope you have kept well and have some news for me. Sit.” He summoned a matching chair beside him. His voice was friendlier with the professor, he had a kind of respect for the man. His magical ability, his self control - they were qualities he took care to master himself. However, despite placing a certain amount of trust in the man, he was still a mere servant, he refused to call anyone close to his equal. 

“Of course, my Lord.” He stiffly sat next to him, his thick black robes spreading around him. “There was an emergency meeting last night with the Order. I had to return to Hogwarts so was unable to see you sooner.”

Voldemort nodded accepting the excuse, just wanting to hear the professors news.

“Your victim was present and able to give a rather vivid account of her stay.” Snape raised an eyebrow expectantly as he drawled. He had obviously not been aware of the Dark Lord’s impromptu change of plans. 

“Did she now?” He couldn’t help the hint of a smirk appearing on his face. 

The other man seemed a little perturbed by his response. “Enough to give them nightmares anyway.”

“I want to see.”

“Y-you want to see?” The stutter betrayed the professors surprise. Voldemort merely kept his gaze level and waited, he would not repeat himself. 

Rapidly collecting himself the professor quelled his nonplus.“I don’t have a penseive, is there one we could summon?”

Annoyed, he held his wand out expectantly. “Give me your arm.” 

Severus pulled back the woollen robe to reveal his masters mark. With only a hiss, the yew wand was pressed to his skin, burning him. 

Almost immediately there was a loud pop and Rodolphus appeared in the room, still clutching his left arm tightly. “My Lord? How can I be of service?”

“I assume you have a penseive somewhere in your manor?”

The host nodded, somewhat confused. “Of course my Lord.” He pulled out his wand calling _Accio_ and within a few seconds the small stone basin sailed into his hands. Snape transfigured a spindly table beside them for the penseive to rest on and when it was placed down Rodolphus looked at them expectantly. 

“You can go now Lestrange.”

Rodolphus frowned in disappointment for a beat before remembering his place and striding from the room. When the door was closed behind him, Snape turned to him questioningly. 

“It was easier than calling for him. And, heaven forbid it was Mrs Lestrange that answered our call.”

Severus snorted unpleasantly as he raised his wand to retrieve the memory. “I have to feel sorry for the poor woman. At Hogwarts she was always spineless, unable to stand up for herself. It was a sin of her parents to have her marry that sadist.”

Voldemort shrugged in disinterest. “Well, his sadism serves me well, that is all I care.”

The professor’s jaw was tense as he placed the white, wispy memories into the basin. “There you have it, you remember what I told you?”

“Yes. Is there anything else you need to report to me?”

The younger man didn’t react to his sudden sharpness. “You have dealt a devastating blow to them but they are reforming and actively recruiting. I don’t know when the next meeting is but I will be attending memorial services for your victims all this week and next, so I’m sure I will pick up some chatter.”

Voldemort nodded distractedly. “That will do then.”

Understanding he was being dismissed, Snape stood, glancing cautiously once at the pensieve before walking to the door, taking care to close it behind himself. 

Silence filled the room for a few minutes as the Dark Lord remained in his seat. With a determined sigh he stood and moved to the door, sealing it with a protective ward. He did not want to be disturbed - or caught unaware. Now that was done he headed to the penseive, the memory swirling around serenely. 

He hated looking at memories, the feeling, the loss of control. He avoided it as much as possible but this time his curiosity overwhelmed his natural need for control. It would do no good to drag it out, so with a deep breath he plunged his head into the basin.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He was completely disorientated for a moment as he landed in the middle of a crowded room. It was much more brightly lit than the room he had just left, he realised it was actually a large kitchen. There was a large table at one side of the room with every chair filled around it, others were standing leaning against the counters. He noticed a refrigerator in the corner, it was obviously one of the mudblood members homes. 

There must have been nearly thirty of them crowded in the room, most of their faces were blurred and distorted. Even the photographs that had been put up on the wall were undistinguishable. Severus had explained it all to him the last time he had taken one of his memories. Precautions that Dumbledore had taken to ensure none of the members could accidentally, or otherwise, share the identities of the others. He could only see those he knew to be there. 

The old man himself was sat on a stool, his deep maroon robes and long silver beard setting him apart from everyone else. He also noticed Severus, hidden in the corner in his dark robes, just a shadow in the room. There was a buzz of low, desperate chat as they seemed to be waiting for something. 

The door opened and they all silenced expectantly. A woman came in, totally unidentifiable, it was like looking through frosted glass at her. She made some kind of announcement, her voice a harsh, low buzzing. 

Followed into the room behind her was Sirius Black, he knew the man to be an old school acquaintance of Snape’s. The man was obviously agitated, his hair and clothing dishevelled and his face bright red. He had a hand clasped around a wrist that he was dragging into the room. 

Bellatrix stepped in reluctantly after him, she appeared alarmed at the number of people watching her and he noticed her try to take a step back towards the door. She was as striking as the last time he saw her, her hair had been tied back messily into a plait slung over her shoulder and she was wearing a plain black dress. Dark rings circled her eyes, it seemed she hadn’t had much chance for sleep since she left them and the slightest hint of a pale thin scar remained on her cheek. 

“Sirius?” Pleading with him, she tried to yank her wrist out of his grasp but he ignored it. He seemed unaware, or at least uncaring of her torment. 

“Everyone, we have some news. About the others.” He looked at them meaningfully and silence descended in the room. The young man turned to her expectantly. “Go on…”

The dark haired woman reached up to lightly touch the necklace on her chest before taking a deep breath to steel herself. “They’re dead. The death eaters caught them and killed them.”

Gasps and sobs seemed to break out across the room but their exclamations lost in the drone. Alastor Moody stood from his chair in outrage, his wand instinctively held in his hand. 

“What?! How do you know this?”

“Alastor.” Dumbledore’s calm voice broke through the rising tense and assuaged his friend momentarily. Moody nodded at him and put his wand away. “It is rather obvious Ms Black here has been through an ordeal.”

The old man nodded at her sympathetically - it was sickening really. She didn’t seem too impressed by his wise, old grandfather routine either but she stayed quiet. Watching him suspiciously, as he stepped a little closer. 

“Please tell us everything you can Ms Black.”

She gave him a look, practically a glare before she turned to her cousin. 

“Tell them Bellatrix.” Seemingly giving up waiting on for her, he addressed the distorted audience. “She turned up at mine in the middle of the night looking a right bloody state. Said she needed to talk to us — to Dumbledore. That You-Know-Who had captured her and sent her with a message for everyone.”

Voldemort moved across the room to get a better view of the faces he could actually see. Dumbledore had a deep frown on his face, highlighting the wrinkles that had appeared since the last time he had seen the old man. 

His voice was gruff when he addressed the younger woman. “You were taken with the rest of them?”

Bellatrix’s voice was flat when she responded, she stared at the wall opposite unable to look at anyone in particular. “Yes. We were brought before _him,_ he made me watch as he tortured and killed them all. He wanted me to see so I could tell you what he was capable of.”

Her eyes finally locked on Dumbledore’s, her eyes blazed with fury and unshed tears.

“My child, you must tell us, who? Who was taken?” 

Voldemort moved closer to her as she quickly swiped a hand to brush away the gathering tears. The faint tremble had reappeared in her hands and he knew she was remembering everything. He enjoyed the mental anguish wracking through her. 

“There were… twelve of us. Alice Longbottom,” the name brought a chorus of outraged humming. Dumbledore glanced mournfully at one distorted figured in particular, it didn’t take much intelligence to realise it must have been her husband - the other auror.

The noise had yet to settle down but Albus nodded seriously, encouraging her on. “The rest?”

“Marlene McKinnon, two brothers - I think Livingstone was their name. Maybe Sam and Alex? Dorcas Meadows and her husband, I think he was anyway.” Her voice had become fainter as the colour drained from her face. The droning buzz carried on around them and he noticed the man beside her clenching his fists tightly in barely suppressed rage. 

The names continued. “Tom Carmichael, eh Trevor and Sandra - I’m not sure what their surname was.”

She leant back heavily against the wall, the memories too much for her. He wondered why the man beside her hadn’t noticed her exhaustion.

“Take this Ms Black.” Dumbledore quickly moved the stool he had been sitting on across the room to her before she fell to the ground. He strode over to help her sit down, with a tight clasp on her arm. By now all the colour had been drained from her face and she looked back at the headmaster apologetically. 

Voldemort had to shuffle closer, almost to stand in front of her to hear her whisper to the old man. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head sadly as he supported her on the wooden seat, a hand resting on her shoulder. “The rest?”

She steeled herself to get through the last of the names. “Natalie O’Neill and Duane Chapman.”

Albus nodded with regret. “And you?”

Bellatrix face dropped into an expressionless mask as she responded without emotion. “Yes.”

A shout broke out across the room as the buzzing commotion settled temporarily. “So why did you get to live then? How do we know you are not just a plant sent here to spy?” It was Moody, who was on his feet again. 

The dark haired woman looked dumbfounded at the accusation. “W-what? No, I’m not.” She turned pleadingly to Sirius, who moved back out of her grasp uncertainly. Realising her cousin would not defend her she implored Dumbledore. Desperately she tried to make him believe her, it was the most animated Voldemort had ever seen her. “He made me watch, they were all tortured and he made me watch so would I tell you every detail. Then when he was finished he used an unforgivable on me.”

Another shout seemed to burst out but it was distorted and he missed the words. The old man raised a hand to silence them and turned to Bellatrix. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head, a hand twisted into the roots of her messy hair, pulling it out of its haphazard style. “I can still hear all their screaming, they were tortured until they became bumbling fools or just couldn’t scream anymore so they were finally killed. The death eaters, they just treated like a training session, as they practiced their most vicious and mutilating curses.”

The confused droning picked up again and Dumbledore tightened his grip on her as he tried to placate her. “Shh, thats enough. We believe you.”

It angered the observing dark lord to watch. He had deliberately made her watch, he wanted everyone to know the horror he could inflict on them at any moment. He wanted to draw out every drop of pain from the woman and here was that old fool trying to silence her, to offer her false platitudes as if he actually cared. 

At that moment she gave a heaving sob, hiding behind her hands and her mass of hair. Her cousin beside her watched her awkwardly, it was obvious he felt a little guilty for his treatment of her. Despite this he didn’t move and let the old professor pat her patronisingly on the back. 

The rest of the room seemed to be whispering among themselves, some were consoling others and a few of them had left. 

“We can help keep you safe, I can find you somewhere secure to stay. Perhaps Sirius…?”

Both Blacks gave quick, barely perceptible shakes of their heads. 

Bellatrix continued on. “I just want to go home.” Dumbledore was surprised when she stood determinedly. “I am going home now. I have done what I was told to do. I don’t want anymore to do with this.”

She strode to the door, ignoring everyones surprise. The headmaster reached for her again. “Wait, you can’t go yet. We need to discuss things. He let you leave, we need to think about where this leaves us. You could join us, in our resistance. Surely you want to stop him?”

“No.” She shrugged him off and avoided eye contact, frustration kept her posture stiff and tense. “All I want to do is go home. I don’t give a shit about any of this, I just want to be left alone.”

He watched her practically run from the room, the door slamming behind her. Dumbledore frowned at the door momentarily before he swivelled to address the small noisy crowd. 

"My friends, today we have received some devastating news, I —”

“You can’t just let her leave!”

“It’s the r—”

The scene rapidly shifted and Voldemort felt himself moving, twisting. He was thrown out of the memory and back into Lestrange manor. The room had darkened substantially by now, he flicked his wand to light the numerous candles placed around the room. The house elf would light the fire later when he left. 

He sat down heavily in his seat, ignoring the chill that had creeped into the room. His shoulders and back were stiff and sore but he didn’t pay it another thought as he considered what he had just witnessed. Snape hadn’t even given him a chance to hear the discussion about her, and about _him_ afterwards. 

He was glad they knew about their friends that had been killed, that they had been tortured. It was never quite as delicious when he couldn't see their faces, hear their voices but it was good enough. It also pleased him, for a reason he couldn’t determine, to know that she wouldn’t join them. That she had turned down the great and wonderful Albus Dumbledore. 

Well that was it, wasn’t it? She had done what he had wanted and now it was time to move on with the rest of his plans. She would be forgotten, if she managed to stay out of the war. He had much more important things to think about. 

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Here is your tea my Lord.” 

The delicate china chinked as the young woman placed it down nervously on the side table beside him. Mrs Lestrange avoided looking at him as she placed the sugar to one side and poured a cup with shaking hands. He noticed yellowing bruising peeking out from the sleeves of her long grey dress. 

He was well aware of Rodolphus’s penchant for violence and was unsurprised that it extended to his wife. The woman was really quite pathetic. He knew she felt uncomfortable under his gaze, she tried her hardest to avoid him whilst he was staying in their manor but he refused to have house elves in his presence. He didn’t trust the ugly creatures, so she was forced to be in his company. 

It was a shame really, purebloods never bothered to teach their daughters much in the way of magic. Housewives and mothers didn’t need to know much, their husbands could always do anything they needed. It left them horribly defenceless, against their husbands or anyone else with less than honest intentions. What a waste.

She bowed lowly before quietly creeping from the room, trying her best not to do anything that would antagonise him. 

“Mina.” He spoke calmly but she still flinched in anticipation. She turned to face him, hesitating. 

“My Lord?” He noticed her wringing her hands together. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was a pureblood at all. 

“I have a couple of letters I need sending.” He lifted the thick envelopes and she cautiously approached him to take them. With snake-like reflexes he grabbed her wrist as soon as she reached out for the letters. She let out a squeak and tried to pull away from him until she remembered who he was.

He waited until she had stopped struggling, she finally locked eyes with him before quickly looking away. Not even considering her desire for privacy, he flitted briefly into her mind. Enough to see how miserable she was, to see how Rodolphus took out his frustration her. To see how she was separated from her first love, her betrothed, to instead marry upwards to a prestigious first born Lestrange. 

If he was one for emotions the conditions of her life may have moved him but then, how bad could it really be to have such wealth? She made no effort to change things for herself and he certainly wasn’t one to interfere in the lives of his followers. Not whilst the death eater in question served him well. 

“I will be gone within the next two days.” He didn’t usually bother to give his hosts any notice but it could do no harm really. She stumbled back when he released her. 

“Yes, my Lord.”

He dismissed her blankly. “That is all.”

She practically ran from the room this time, not giving him a chance to call her back again.

He would wait now, the letters were the fastest way to call his newest two recruits to him. They had not been privileged with receiving the dark mark yet which was something of an inconvenience. 

With nothing much else to occupy himself with, he took a sip of weak tea he had been served. It was some plain herbal crap that Mrs Lestrange always insisted on making. It made him grateful he couldn’t really taste it but he found the warmth of it at least a little soothing. 

He understood it to an extent, why Rodolphus did it. She was a dull waif of a thing, there was no question. So unlike _her,_ the only other woman he had any contact with recently. 

The Dark Lord clenched his jaw, much to his chagrin she had once again made her way into his subconscious thoughts. It seemed to be happening more often, when he wasn’t expecting it, as his mind started to wander. It was dangerous. Dangerous to let any one person preoccupy him to such an extent. 

He couldn’t help but believe she was special though — Bellatrix Black. Yet he had no real proof to the contrary. It was difficult to admit to himself but he regretted letting her go so soon. He hadn’t really given himself a proper opportunity to appraise her. So far all he really knew for certain was she was undoubtedly an attractive woman with an unusual heritage. She had managed to make several of his death eaters wary of her but other than that he had had no opportunity to gage her skills. 

Currently he was recruiting two new followers, Regulus Black and a friend of his, Barty Crouch. Although he hadn’t allowed himself much time to dwell on the reasoning behind it, he now wondered if he hadn’t acted rashly in letting her go. He was sure the two young boys would be valuable investments but perhaps he should have just gone straight to the source. Who’s to say she wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to join him? 

She wasn’t a pureblood but then again neither was Severus and he had more than proved himself. She has had a unique  insight into pureblood life but was always on the periphery — it could be her chance to belong at last. It could prove an easy, lazy way to entice her in.

In the distance he could hear the front door knocking, his guests had arrived. He set his cup down and with a flick of his wand vanished the china, hopefully it wasn’t one of the Lestrange’s precious heirlooms. He didn’t want his servants to see him doing anything to _human_ when they entered. He stood to position himself by the fireplace, though it wasn’t lit at this time of day.

After a beat, there was a rapping at the door. 

“Enter.” 

Two young men practically stumbled into the room. The first was obviously Barty Crouch Jr, his sandy messy hair and energetic movements giving him away. He appeared to be over the moon at having been called, his eyes alive with excitement. He was followed by the Black heir, Regulus. His appearance exemplified his position, richly dressed with not a hair out of place. He had inherited their good looks but didn’t seem to be made of quite the same solid stuff his father and uncle had. 

They both murmured their ‘my Lords’ and bowed before him. 

“I have been told good things about your progress, the pair of you. Lestrange has been particularly impressed by your enthusiasm Barty.”

“T-thank you my Lord. It means the world to me, that you have given me this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Voldemort raised a hand to silence the boy. Although his eagerness was pleasing, he would not stop talking without an interruption. “I think perhaps some self-discipline may be in order, however.”

“Certainly, apologises my Lord, I just get carried away sometimes. I will work on it though, anything you ask my Lord.”

He looked pointedly at the young man and to his relief he stopped yammering. He glanced at the other boy bowed below him, his black hair had been slicked back with some ridiculous salve. He was sure if he touched it his hand would come back damp. 

Self-discipline definitely did not seemed to be his problem. He was quiet, though it made him wonder if the boy had something to hide or if it was just a family trait. 

“Lucius was equally as impressed with you're duelling skills Regulus.”

“Thank you my Lord.” His reply was short and measured. Voldemort had to admire it somewhat — he learnt early on that silence could often be a useful weapon. 

“You have flourished under the tutelage of two of my most valuable followers. I have therefore decided you are both to be granted the privilege of bearing my mark.”

Regulus looked up at him with what he could only identify as apprehension. His companion gasped with abandoned, a smile wide across his face. 

“Such an honour my Lord.”

He smiled encouragingly at the boy. “Come Barty, you shall be first.” 

Voldemort moved back to his chair, seating himself before indicating the fidgeting young man to come forward. Barty rested on his knees before him, arm offered up freely.

He took a hold of it and pressed his wand flush to the skin. ‘ _Morsmordre.’_

Using the opportunity, whilst the boy cried out in pain as the mark sewed itself deep into his skin, he broke into his mind unawares to him. 

He wasn’t surprised at what he saw. Predominantly the disappointed father weighed heavily on his mind, something Lord Voldemort had exploited to entice the boy originally. He was also pleased to see the fanatic loyalty that had already taken hold, his desperate desire to please his Lord. Snippets of memories of the two boys at Hogwarts passed through his mind, they had been close. But a need to outdo his old friend, for once to be better than the pureblood heir tinted his thoughts. It could definitely be used to his advantage. 

With a final cry, it was done. The new mark glistened inky black on Barty’s skin as there were already beads of blood blooming up. The young man was captivated with it, not suspecting for even for a second that the dark lord had been in his mind. 

“I know you will make me proud Barty.”

The transfixed lad stared up at him, tears of pain and joy brimming in his eyes. “I will my Lord.”

Dismissing him, he called for the other boy. “Your turn Regulus.”

Barty quickly shuffled back out of the way to watch his friend. Regulus looked petrified now after witnessing Barty’s pain and Voldemort was sure he had a bit of a green tinge to his pale face now. He had better not vomit on him, that might be deserving of a killing curse no matter who he was. 

Reluctantly, the black haired boy pulled back the sleeve of his heavy robe. Voldemort grasped on to his arm, as he noticed fine perspiration at his hairline. He raised an eyebrow in challenge, if the boy was going to pull out, this was his last opportunity. 

Without warning he cast the spell. Regulus practically screeched as he tried to pull his arm away from the intense pain but Voldemort wouldn’t allow it. The boy’s eyes were wide in terror so he rammed his way through the barriers that were usually in place in his mind. 

Surprisingly it was much more chaotic than Barty’s mind, the pain likely distorting everything. He pushed through the doubts and fears, the sadness of losing his brother, the pressure of being the heir to a great house. He sifted through it all until he found a thread of what he was looking for. Just wisps of memories as the boy sensed what was being done to him even through the pain and tried to expel him, to disorientate him. 

_A small girl with ebony curls stood before them, tears streaked a path down her cheeks as he watched on. Beside him was his brother, barely able to hide his smirk._

_“No, I swear, it wasn’t me.”_

_The child begged the older woman standing in front of her. She had black hair like the girl’s but it was poker straight and her face was made ugly by the utter look of disdain on it._

_She hissed nastily. “Liar.”_

_Regulus wanted to speak up, it really wasn’t Bella’s fault, she was just defending him. As if sensing his thoughts, his brother pinched his arm — a warning to stay quiet._

_“I should cut your tongue out for those dirty little lies.”_

_The small girl clapped a hand around her mouth as she stepped back fearfully._

_“I don’t know what my brother was thinking when he decided to keep you. I shouldn’t have to put up with you in my house, sullying my things with your dirty blood.” She pulled out her wand from her sleeve, much to the alarm of the young girl. “Bend over girl.”_

_Bellatrix looked pleadingly at the boys. Deciding she was taking too long the woman grabbed the shoulder of her dress and swivelled her around forcing her down. She lifted the pink ruffles of her dress exposing her bottom and legs to them. She raised her wand which transformed into a whip as she flicked it._

_Regulus cringed as the wand was brought down and met his cousin’s pale skin with a loud crack. Again and again without mercy the whip was swung down as the girl screeched in pain. Unable to take the force she fell forward but there was no let up as she was hit again and again, howling in pain._

_He glanced at his brother now, at least he looked a little bit guilty. Sirius constantly forgot that Bella was always punished way more than they ever were._

 

The scene rapidly changed to another. 

 

_A much older Bellatrix was sat on the bed facing him, she looked to be just shy of twenty. She was wearing a stunning fitted purple dress with a smart black robe over the top held closed by a silver brooch. A small suitcase lay by her feet on the floor. She had a hand stretched out across the bed towards him but without quite reaching._

_“I’m sorry Reggie.”_

_He just couldn’t believe it. “You can’t leave as well!”_

_She pulled her hand back to herself at his outburst with a hurt expression. “You know I can’t stay Reg. They all blame me for her leaving.” Her voice became bitter as she continued. “For me influencing her.”_

_He couldn’t help the tremor in his voice as he spoke. “But I won’t be able to see you again.”_

_She sighed heavily. “Maybe things will change. When Sirius is head of the house, he has all those friends. It will be different then.”_

_He shook his head in disappointment. “No, it won’t. Things will never change. Not for the better anyway.”_

_At this she shuffled forward on the bed and pulled him to her. She rest his head on her chest as she stroked his hair soothingly. He could feel her chest vibrating as she spoke._

_“I promise we will see each other again. Please just finish up at school, make something of yourself. And help Sirius out. I know he is a total prick but it’s not easy, being treated like an outcast.”_

_He brushed his hand on her back to comfort her. It wasn’t fair, none of it. “I’m sorry for everything Bella.”_

_“No, no hush, you have nothing to apologise for.”_

_She rocked him in her arms for a few more moments, almost as if she was reluctant to go. He took the opportunity to breath her in, to remember her perfume, the feel of her arms around him. He had known her his entire life and now they would never see each other again, she might as well be dead._

_He felt a sudden surge of anger at her. She was abandoning him, just like Andromeda did. She was just going to walk away and leave him on his own. She must have felt him tense because she released him and sat back._

_The anger settled as quickly as it rose up. How ridiculous was he being? Did he really think she could stay? After everything, he knew he should just be grateful she hadn’t left sooner._

_“I’ll miss you Bella.”_

The Dark Lord was pulled suddenly from the young man’s mind. The mark had fully formed and beads of blood had escaped from where his nails had grasped the lad’s arm too tightly. When he looked to his face he knew Regulus had felt him in his mind. The boy had obviously been taught more about legilimency than his friend. But did he know whom he was seeking in the memories?

Ignoring the looked of barely concealed contempt levelled at him he released the dark haired boy. There would be time enough to discipline the arrogant boy. 

“Congratulations, you are now death eaters.”

It was funny how the pair of them had practically opposing faces, jubilance and misery together. Well, they would both be equally as useful in their own way. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Voldemort did not react as he heard a loud crack behind him. He had called Rodolphus almost fifteen minutes ago and the death eater had only just arrived. He could hear him shuffling awkwardly behind him, probably wondering if addressing him would cause more of a backlash. 

“You took your time Lestrange.”

He spun around at last to lay eyes on his follower. He had returned home three days ago and was much more comfortable conducting business in his own environment. Rodolophus however seemed very uneasy, perhaps he felt he had been summoned for a punishment related to his hosting of the Dark Lord. 

“I apologise my Lord, I had been bathing but I wanted to be presentable when I arrived.”

He moved to his armchair in front of the crackling fire before finally responding. “Is that right?”

Rodolphus looked up at him in confusion, he knew there was no correct answer so sensibly stayed quiet. He continued on. 

“I have a task for you. I want you to take Barty and the Carrows to capture a high value target.”

“Of course my Lord.”

Voldemort glanced at the armchair beside him before signalling for his guest to sit, an offer he took gladly. “I want you to allow Barty to organise it, I want it to be a test of his abilities but you will still be in charge. Any failure will be held against you. Do you understand?”

“Yes my Lord.” He nodded but Voldemort knew he wasn’t too happy. A punishment due to someone else’s mistake was not something anyone wanted. “May I ask, who is it you want us to get?”

He stared into the fire for a moment, part of him still debating whether it was a good idea. Well, of course it was a good idea, it was his idea after all, he typically never doubted his own judgement but was there some kind of potential backlash he hadn’t considered?

“I want you to get Bellatrix Black.”

He whipped around to look at Rodolphus when the younger man gave off a noise half way between a choke and a laugh. “Bellatrix? Why on earth do you want her?” He gave short chuckle before he realised he was the only one laughing. His voice immediately became humble. “I’m sorry my Lord, I just find it difficult to understand how she could be of use to you.”

The older man’s irritation changed to curiosity — oh, he didn’t think the younger man was sincere in his apology at all but sometimes other things were more important than forced contrition.

“You sound as if you know her?”

It was clear the young pureblood was relieved he had been let off the hook. “Ha, well I have had a few run-ins with her in the past. I don’t know if you know this but I was betrothed to her younger sister Andromeda Black.”

He was somewhat surprised, although he never had bothered to keep up with nonsense like pureblood marital affairs. He added a little spitefully. “Until she ran off of course?”

The younger man frowned, he did not like to be reminded that she had abandoned him and her own family for a mudblood, it had been humiliating enough at the time. “That was all Bellatrix’s doing. I mean she wasn’t a pureblood, she shouldn’t even have been around. She put lies into Andromeda’s head, made her turn her back on her blood to consort with those who aren’t worthy.”

He ignored the man’s complaints to demand. “I want to see.”

“See, my Lord?”

“Yes, I want you to show me. Show me why you think I should have no interest in her.” 

The dark lord could see Rodolphus had serious misgivings but they both knew if he didn’t agree, it would be forcibly taken anyway.

Finally conceding he asked. “What do I have to do?”

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, closer to the younger man and directed his wand at him subtly. “Bring your thoughts closer, think of what it is you want me to see right now and I will easily find it.”

With obvious apprehension the younger man nodded and stared off over his shoulder, concentrating on the memory. The dark lord dived straight in.

 

_Bellatrix was stood above him, wand pointed threateningly at him, a fierce expression on her face. She was wearing a light blue summer dress and a white flower in her hair that had clearly been dislodged as it had half fallen out. She radiated fury as she looked down at Rodolphus. He was on the ground, his wand lying underneath the table, out of his reach. They were in a dining room, with its opulence, it was clearly a pureblood home._

_“You fucking bitch!”_

_The words came out gargled as blood flowed from his nose and mouth._

_“Shut up you pig. You think because you have pureblood, because all your ancestors were relatives that shagged each other, that you are superior to me.” The wand in her hand was shaking from rage. “You are a filthy little weasel. I feel sorry for Andy if she is forced to marry you. I swear to Merlin, if you mess with me, or her, I will fucking cripple you. I don’t give a shit who your family is, or how shallow your gene pool is.”_

_She gave him one last kick to his thigh before storming off._

The memory had obviously come to its end but Voldemort wasn’t satisfied. That was what Rodolphus had wanted to show him, not want he had wanted to see. He smashed through the barriers the younger man was trying to put up, Rodolphus should have known it would be useless to try and hide anything.

_He walked in from the garden where their families were enjoying the sun and he was supposed to be getting to know his betrothed. What was the point really, though? It’s not like it wasn’t already set in stone, it didn’t matter whether they knew each other or not. Or if they even liked each other. To be honest, Andromeda was a bit dull and clearly wanted very little to do with him._

_Not that it mattered, she didn’t have a choice._

_But he was bored and it was far too hot to be sitting outside so he decided to go off and amuse himself. He wandered through the side corridor and into the parlour, straight through it on the other side was the dining room. Just as he expected so was she, standing with her back to him and leaning over the table. She was waving her wand around and he realised she was using it to paint on a large canvas._

_He quietly approached her, resting a hand on the small of her back as he stood beside her. He barely gave the painting a passing look, more interested in the way she tensed under his hand._

_“So this is where you have been hiding then?”_

_She glanced at him in obvious annoyance. “I’m not hiding, I just don’t like spending too much time in the sun, I burn too easily.”_

_He nodded sympathetically as he caressed the bare skin of her arm up to her shoulder. “Yes, you must protect this lovely pale skin of yours.”_

_Bellatrix gave an exasperated sigh as she shrugged him off, taking a step back away from him. “What do you want Rodolphus?”_

_With a chastising shake of his head he moved closer again, placing a hand on her delicate waist. “That’s Mr Lestrange to you." Her expressing was stony at his words but he only smirked knowingly at her. "And I think you know what I want.”_

_She placed a hand firmly on his chest to stop him advancing any further into her personal space. With a voice now dripping with disdain she replied. “Mr Lestrange, you are betrothed to my sister. This not proper conduct.”_

_He laughed in her face and covered her hand on his chest with his own, moving it to his waist so he could get closer. “Proper conduct? What would you know about that, you’re not even pureblood? Which means Andromeda is not your full sister, so you don’t need to worry about that. Anyway, you should be flattered. You are inferior, I am giving you an opportunity to experience a bit class. I wouldn’t turn it down if I were you.”_

_With that declaration he launched forward, pressing his lips to hers and giving her ass a very generous squeeze as he pressed her to him. She immediately pushed him off her, backing up away from him. Her cheeks had reddened and her chest was tight against her dress as she breathed but it was certainly not from arousal._

_She raised her wand and seeing her intention, he whipped out his own, just on time to deflect a hex sent his way._

_“How dare you turn your wand on your betters?!”_

_She ignored his outrage and bombarded him with hexes until he became overwhelmed. He was thrown back, hitting the wall and slumping to the ground. His wand rolled away from him, leaving him defenceless._

_“You fucking bitch!”_

 

Voldemort pulled out of the man’s mind then when he realised he had already seen the conclusion. Rodolphus looked irate at having such a humiliating experience observed by someone else. 

“You were attracted to her then? But she turned you down?”

The younger man spat back at him. “The stupid cow didn’t know what was good for her. I was doing her a favour and she just threw it back in my face. She has no respect for purebloods.”

He didn’t bother trying to argue with such logic. He wanted to think about want he had seen but needed to be alone. “My decision has not been changed, I still want you and the others to bring her to me, you understand.”

The reply was sullen, verging on disrespectful. “Yes my Lord.”

Rodolphus stood, understanding that he was finally being dismissed. 

“And Lestrange, I do not want her harmed. Do you understand? If she is brought to me less than whole, I will enjoy allowing the new recruits to practice their skills at the cruciatous curse on you. Only after I have shown them how its done properly first, of course.”

He received a grim nod. “I understand.” Keen to get away, he disapparated with a loud crack.  

He was sure Mrs Lestrange would not be having an enjoyable night once her husband returned home. He didn’t bother to waste a thought on that though. After seeing the full memory, he knew he had made the right decision. She was strong willed and good with a wand, she had incapacitated one of his best followers — even if he hadn’t been trained at that stage. 

And even if she opposed joining them, she still had to be captured. There was no way he could allow her to change her mind and join Dumbledore’s order. 

 

________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 “Evan managed to put his personal assistant, Matilda Farrow under the imperious. She had the access to slip him that potion. No one suspects a thing and even if they did, she would take the fall.”

Lucius was sat at the dining table opposite him with stacks of reports between them. He was wearing his smart white and gold dress robes and had a smug smile on his face. 

“There is no trail back to me, leaving the position of Deputy Head of Magical Maladies and Medicine open for me. Obviously it’s not the most beneficial position for us but the experience will allow me to apply up the ladder.”

He had to give Malfoy his due, politics was in his blood. Within a few years, he will be strategically placed to take over as Minister of Magic when the old regime topples. 

“Have you managed to recruit anyone within the Department of Mysteries yet?”

The arrogant smile fell a bit. “I have been trying out potential candidates, it is difficult getting access to them. So far, Rookwood and Adams seem the most promising but it will take a bit of time. I don’t want to be too premature and sacrifice all my work so far.”

Voldemort understood his motives but he sometimes worried that as the man before him gained political power, he would forget who had helped get him there and whom he was serving. “I want to see results Lucius.”

They both turned as they heard loud pops from the entrance hall and yelling as his followers arrived in his home. The heavy sounds of boots stomping and loud conversation could be heard as they got closer until the door was finally pushed open. Rodolphus led the way with a proud expression, there were flecks of blood on his face but he didn’t appear injured. 

“Sorry, my Lord, I didn’t realise you had company. I thought you would want to know we had completed our mission.”

He did not appear sorry at all but moved to the side to allow the others to enter. Barty Crouch Jr came next, a manic glint in his eye as he dragged in their captive. She had been bound at the wrists and blood had dribbled down her chest onto her thin white top from a nasty gash above her eye. He was surprised to see her wearing muggle clothes, a white long sleeved top with dark blue jeans. 

She was thrown onto the ground on her knees and Barty crouched down beside her to pet her hair. “Now stay there like a good little girl.” 

She threw a contemptuous look but did as she was told. The Carrow siblings came in behind her, both looking worse for wear. The male one, he never really bothered to remember either of their names, looked as if his left arm was only just hanging on by a tendon. His sister was limping and her short hair appeared singed. 

Barty Crouch bowed his head reverently. “My Lord, the prisoner, as you requested.”

He had been so busy watching her, he had almost forgotten Lucius was beside him until he spoke up. 

“Is that _Bellatrix Black_?”

Her head snapped up to see who had recognised her. Her voice was venomous when she spat back. “Malfoy? I should have known.”

The blonde just laughed at her and flicked his ridiculous hair over his shoulder in an act of nonchalance. 

“Get out.”

His voice was cold and commanding and Lucius immediately stood and gathered up his papers. Voldemort stood as well and took a step towards the group, ignoring Malfoy. 

“I will inform you of my progress my Lord.” He disapparated straight out of the room with a quiet pop. 

The others watched him expectantly, awaiting their praise for a job well done. 

“All of you leave. Now.”

The death eaters glanced at each other in confusion at such a prompt dismissal. He pulled out his wand and held it in his hands, a non-verbal threat. It didn’t take them long to take the hint and with loud pops they all disappeared except Barty. The young man pulled out a wand himself and for a brief second the dark lord wondered if he had lost his mind and was daring to challenge him but instead he held it out for him to take. 

“Her wand. Rodolphus was going to destroy it but I thought you might want it.”

He found it difficult to fault the young man's sense. “Good. Place it on the table before you leave.”

Barty did what he was told, happiness radiating off him at pleasing the dark lord as he placed the wood on the table and vanish with a crack.

At last he was alone with her. The room was so silent he could hear her laboured, panicked breaths. She was staring down at her bound hands, as if her gaze alone could burn through the rope. 

“Bellatrix Black, we meet again.”

It was as if she hadn’t even heard him. This might be more difficult than he was anticipating. 

“Come, you are an invited guest. Sit up here, I want to talk to you.”

He moved to where Lucius had been sitting and pulled out the chair for her. She finally looked up at him, confused and wary. He didn’t have to wait long for her to get up from the floor, moving with grace despite the bonds and she slowly approached the chair. He could see her analysing her surroundings, looking for any chance to escape. 

At last she reached him and he smiled encouragingly pointing down at the chair, he wanted her full cooperation after all. It seemed to have the opposite effect and she seized up right before him, the chair in between them. 

It was taking too long. 

“Sit.”

Sensing he was reaching the end of his very short temper, she obeyed quickly. She was close enough that he could hear her laboured, ragged breaths and the ends of her curls brushed against his hands still resting on the back of her seat. He snatched them back and took his own chair, ignoring his curious reaction.

Voldemort noticed the wound above her eye was still oozing. She was staring down at her tied wrists, it was clear she was petrified of him. As she should be.

“I wanted to talk. I apologise that my followers were so aggressive, they can be over enthusiastic at times, although it looks as if you gave them a run for their money.” He gave a short mirthless laugh to draw a reaction but she simply stared at him. 

Her eyes drifted down to the wand that lay in front of him, he picked it up when he noticed. It felt stiff beneath his fingers and had a noticeable crook in it. It was pretty unique, just like her. 

“This is your wand? What is it made of?”

Bellatrix’s eyes never left her wand but she answered him; slow and considered. “It’s walnut. The core is dragon heartstring.”

“It’s very rigid.”

Passing it between his hands, he tested the strength of it. He hadn’t been expecting an answer but got one anyway. “Yes, Ollivander told me when I got it, that it is unyielding.”

That was not a good sign, not if her wand was any reflection of her personality which he very much thought it was. He placed it down gently in front of him before intertwining this hands and giving her his proposal. 

“I want you to join me."

Silence filled the room as Bellatrix looked back at her hands, eyes wide, absolutely astounded. He was sure he could almost hear the pounding of her nervous heart in the stifling silence.

Just when he thought he might have to curse her impudence, she practically whispered. "But I'm not a pureblood."

Her dark eyes flitted up to his briefly and he knew she was expecting some kind of punishment at her admission. "I'm well aware of that Black. I have many followers that are not pureblood. Of course they start lower in the ranks and have to work a bit harder than most but as long as they serve me faithfully, they are welcome." He paused to let his words sink in but she did not look convinced. "You would be trained by my followers, you would be free to do what you want as long as the tasks I give you are completed. You would be respected and rewarded for your accomplishments, you would be rich again, I could restore you to the wealth you were surrounded by as a child. And you would be on the winning side, it will not be long before the ministry collapses and I have absolute power, it would be advantageous to be on my good side."

Her face was strained, he could see an edge of resistance in her eyes as she calculated her options. He debated pushing into her mind to have a look for a weakness he could exploit to get her to join but he couldn't take the risk. She was raised a Black so likely is skilled in occlumency and if she felt him, it could force her decision. It would likely be against his desires.

Bellatrix started to shake her head slowly as she bit her lower lip fearfully. "I... I don't want to kill anyone." Her voiced cracked pathetically, it sounded as if she wanted to cry.

The dark lord felt a familiar creep of anger rise in his chest. Did she not understand the gift he was giving her? An opportunity coveted by many and a chance so many of his victims had begged for. She did not want to kill, ha — who was she kidding? She was from one of the darkest, maddest magical families still around. So her blood may be diluted but so was his own and he still had all the greatest qualities of Slytherin himself.

With an irritated sighed he explained. "Killing is only a small part of what my death eaters do and only when it is vital. Death is not my goal, I only want to raise magical folk up to their rightful place. Some times that involves a bit of dirty work but many followers help me in other ways. I have lots of spies working for me that never have to resort to violence."

She shifted a little in her seat as her gaze flickered around the room again, finally they settled back on him and held.

"If I refuse?"

Her question had a bit of a snarky bite to it. It suggested he might not be about to get his way.

Contradicting everything he had just said, he practically growled back. "You will be disposed of. Only after I have made you beg for death, until I have turned you insane, then I will finally end your suffering."

The dark haired woman let out a terrified sob and she shook her head desperately. Her bound hands were lifted to try and cover her mouth, to stop the horrible keening sounds from her.

The noise was enough to make his skin itch and he grasped his own wand. Sensing his action she managed to stop and her body just heaved and jerked oddly as she stifled her lament.

"I will take your reaction to be a no to my very generous offer. It's a shame. There will be no one to miss you."

"No, no please. Just let me go, I can just go home. I don't want anything to do with the war. Please."

She bent over low with her hands stretched out across the table, almost as if she dared to think to touch him. Her fear of him seemed muted as her survival instinct forced her into action.

He took his opportunity then, knowing her decision was made, he forced his way into her mind. There was a resistance, she was smart enough to try and block him. Everything was darkened and obscured, he couldn't get a sense of anything but could feel her presence there, around him. 

With a renewed onslaught he stampeded through her barriers, hissing in triumph as he broke through. He was vaguely aware of hearing her scream, a dull sense of pain in her mind but it was blotted out by everything else. By all the chaos.

Concentrating, he saw her capture earlier that day. For someone so against violence and killing, she put up a hell of a fight against his four death eaters. The male Carrow almost accidentally killed, if it hadn't been for the interjection by his sister. It did not interest him however, except to momentarily mourn the loss of such potential skill from his ranks.

He found the memory of their discussion, unsurprisingly at the forefront of her mind. He tried to look deeper to see her motivation but she was incessantly obstructing him. He called out to her, echoed through her mind, a warning, “if you continue to resist me I will scrabble your brain so you won't even know who you are."

It seemed to work as the strongest resistance eased somewhat and he was able to get snatches of thoughts. Of the newspaper articles with headlines of missing wizards and murdered families. Of horror stories of the imperious curse and inferi and the werewolves and vampires. The fear among witches and wizards, avoiding everyone as it was impossible to know whom to trust. There was more influencing her, he knew it but she was too strong at the moment and he was reluctant to cause any permanent damage yet.

Voldemort pulled back at last, she was doubled over in her seat clasping her head as she shuddered in pain. She did not seem to realise he had left her thoughts as she murmured softly to herself, a sound of torment but he couldn't make out the words.

With a resigned sigh he realised he would have to do something with her. It seemed a waste to just kill her, despite what he had promised her, and who knew what knowledge she might have. She had managed to get in touch with her cousin after all and infiltrated an Order meeting. 

No, he would wait, there was no hurry and perhaps a little more persuasion would yield the results he was after. Determined he grabbed both wands and stood.

As he crossed over to her, she tensed visibly as the floor creaked beneath his feet. She only managed a quick look at him with tear filled eyes before he grabbed her shoulder in a pincer grip and apparated them.

They landed in the dungeons below his home and he released her. She gave a shriek and he assumed it was from the look of the dingy cell. It was one of three in the basement and now the only one currently occupied. 

Bellatrix tried to shuffle away from him as she cried out in pain again and he finally noticed the bloody gash that had appeared on her left calf. He scowled as he realised it was from splinching, it had never happened to him before but the delve into her mind must have disorientated him more than he had anticipated. 

Nevertheless he ignored it, she would be dead soon anyway, one little cut was hardly going to make a difference. 

"Make yourself comfortable, I will be taking this with me to be destroyed." 

He waved her wand tauntingly before walking out, locking the door firmly behind him.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Lord Voldemort apparated back into his home, appearing directly in his living room. It was a relief to be back, at least at home he could make plans in peace. Things were starting progress faster, his followers were strategically placed, he had made provisional alliances with vampires and the giants. It wouldn’t be long before he would attempt to overthrow the ministry and everyone would know of his power. 

But right now he just wanted something to eat. He made for the kitchen at the back of the house, he rarely ate these days, the dark magic he had cast on himself had curbed his constant need for food but it was still there. It was impossible for the body to function without food entirely. 

He lit the candles in the darkened room as he entered the kitchen and grimaced. It had obviously been longer than he had realised since he had been in the room, the counters were dusty and the fruit in a bowl in the corner had shrivelled up and rotted. It was the downside of not having house elves, he had never had to rely on them before but now that he was so busy, he had to admit they would be of use. 

With a groan, he flicked his wand and the cupboards flew open, mostly empty. Soup it was then. He chucked what was there into a small cooking cauldron and heated it up magically. As the liquid bubbled softly in front of him, he thought about his prisoner down in the dungeons. 

Bellatrix had been there two days now, he was sure she must be hungry. He hadn’t seen her since he first abandoned her there; on the first night he had crept down the stairs to the dungeon but had paused when he heard her low sobbing through the darkness. For a reason unknown to himself he had listened for a few minutes before withdrawing back up the stairs. 

When it was cooked he poured out a generous portion for himself but made sure there was still some left in the cauldron. He ate with little thought about what he was putting in his mouth or about the taste. He had wanted to think about the acquisition of werewolf support he was hoping to get in the next couple of weeks but his mind constantly wandered. 

He scraped the last of it into his mouth, it would be enough to quell his hunger for a while. Voldemort reached for the remnants in the cauldron poured them out into another bowl. It had cooled a little whilst he had been eating so he waved his wand over it so that steam was rising off.

The Dark Lord made his way down to the dungeons, carrying the bowl carefully so as not to spill anything. His shoes landed heavily on the stone steps and he heard scrambling as she heard his approach.  The torches lit as he passed, throwing light into the dingy basement. 

He stood outside the metals bars separating them as he looked in. She was still shrouded in darkness but with his raised hand he illuminated the small room with wandless magic. Bellatrix threw her hands up to shield herself from the sudden light as she shrinked back. 

She was sat back in the corner, her legs folded up in front of her. Her white shirt was filthy with grim and dried blood and he noticed the wound on her face and the deep slash on her thigh had scabbed over. 

“I thought you must be ravenous by now.” 

The bars slid open as he willed it and he stepped in. He took a seat on the bare bed frame, the wire frame squeaking noisily under his weight, with the bowl still in his hands. She looked up curiously, he knew the smell of the hot food must be driving her mad. 

“It’s been two days now. I hope that has given you plenty of time to reconsider my proposal.”

She blinked at him as she stared at the bowl in his hands, obviously her hunger was a distraction. He held it out to her, she glanced up at him cautiously but seemed to decide it was worth a chance. She shuffled forward to slowly take it from his hands before eagerly scampering back into the corner, wincing a little with the use of her leg. He almost missed the whispered thank you she automatically gave.

It amused him to watch her urgently slurping the soup as if she would never see food again. Certainly not the type of manners her family would have instilled in her. 

“This will be your last chance, you will be freed from your prison. Will you join me?”

Voldemort wasn’t sure what he had expected, he had only even asked halfheartedly. Bellatrix stopped her rapid consumption to gaze at him with a look that was mix of hope and resignation. He knew what her answer would be before she spoke, in fact she didn’t speak. She only gave a meek shake of her head before trying to turn herself further away from him. 

It was just as he had suspected, a decision based on morality. He knew from experience that often times moral fibre didn’t hold up well against threats and violence but every so often the person was strong enough, or stupid enough to stand by their moral principles. Clearly Bellatrix Black was one of those people. 

He felt anger bubbling up low in his stomach as he watched her return to drinking up the soup. There was no point in him staying, he would accomplish nothing productive by staying so stood to leave. She cringed back away from him and he paused standing over her. She was so small, as he towered over her, she almost looked fragile.

Voldemort turned, about to leave when the slow anger rising in him gave way to sudden rage. How dare this pathetic woman reject his very generous offer, was she too good to join his followers? He had even given her food as a gesture of goodwill and the ungrateful bitch still turned him down. 

He whirled around and before she could react, he kicked the bowl right out of her hands. The porcelain smashed against the wall, the last of its blood red contents splashed over the floor. She gave a surprised yelp and threw her arms across her face in defence.  

It did little to quash his rage, he grabbed a good handful of her dark hair and dragged her out of her corner. With the back of his hand he struck her firmly across the face, the sound of flesh against flesh very satisfying. Something that couldn’t really be imitated with a wand. Her lip exploded with the force and blood gushed out and into her mouth.

Her words were gargled and desperate when she pleaded, “p-please stop, no please.”

Ignoring her, he punched her square on the cheek and she fell back onto the ground hard. She held her hands up to her face, not quite touching the throbbing skin, her mouth open in shock. She cried out in pain but not giving her a chance to recover herself he kicked her hard in the stomach again and again as she screamed desperately. 

He finally stopped when he was out of breath. The woman before him had curled up, trying in vain to protect herself from his onslaught. He could see the dirt marks of his shoes on her grimy shirt. Now that his anger had dissipated he could feel his hand aching, he opened and closed it to try and alleviate the pain. 

Voldemort turned to leave, the bars sliding closed behind him. He found himself stopping for a second glance, her pained sobs pleasing him. She would regret not accepting the chance to follow him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He thought of her often, stuck down in his basement in the dark. Especially when he was staying away from his home. He vaguely wondered if one time he would come back and she would be gone, escaped. Or worse, that she had died whilst he was gone, starvation or illness could easily do it. In fact he often though he should just put her out of her misery himself, it would at least stop her occupying his thoughts any longer. 

It was actually a remark made by Antonin Dolohov that gave Lord Voldemort the perfect solution of what to do with his captive. He couldn’t abide by house elves, dingy creatures that had no right to magic. They were unreliable and easy to pull information out of, he did not need a spy in his own home. But as Dolohov had rightly suggested, that didn’t mean he  should be left to do domestic tasks all himself. Many households utilised both house elves and servants, in fact if rumour were to be believed it was where Bellatrix Black had come from.

The dark lord had gathered up the package that had been delivered earlier that day and made his way down to the dungeons. Again the torches lit as he passed, when he reached her cell she was stood in the corner watching him warily. Her eyes were sunken and he was certain she had already lost significant weight. Her cheek was no longer swollen and the livid purple bruise had started to fade but there was still a decent cut in her lower lip. 

With a subtle hand movement, the bars slid open for him and he stood for a moment watching her. The torch light behind him cast his shadow ominously across the room, flickering slightly with the cold breeze. An October chill had settled in the stone dungeon. Her lower lip trembled in anticipation of his visit. 

“I have decided to show you mercy. Although I am very disappointed that you refuse to join my rank of followers, I have found another role for you.” 

She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for her sentence. It was too much for her to hope to be released. 

“I am need of a domestic servant. Someone to keep the house clean, prepare refreshments for my guests and general chores.” 

Bellatrix was obviously surprised at his proposal but she knew it was something of a poisoned chalice. It would never be just simple servitude with him and although she wasn't yet to be killed, neither was she to be freed.His voice became colder as he carried on. “This is not an offer. You will either complete your duties to my satisfaction or face a gruesome, tortured death.”

He threw the package down onto the bare metal bed frame. “These are clean robes, you will be working in my home and will be a reflection of me in front of my guests so you need to look the part. Those filthy muggle rags will be disposed of.”

She slowly reached for the package, limping as she hobbled over to it, holding it close to her chest, her arms wrapped around it. He knew she just didn’t want to anger him by appearing ungrateful. He wouldn’t let his temper get the better of him this time, he hated it when he wasn’t in control.

There was a sharp gasp from her when he raised his wand but he only conjured a small table with a basin on the top that would fill with warm water. He then waved it over the bed frame and a thin mattress with a few cotton sheets appeared. 

“Sit down.”

Awkwardly she shuffled to sit on the edge of the mattress, obviously terrified about his intentions. As if he would ever sink so low when he could have any pureblood he could want. He crouched down on one leg beside her, his black robes fanning out around him. He clamped a hand around her thigh, just below the deep gash, to stop her from pulling away from him. With a languid movement of his wand, it glowed light blue momentarily before healing itself. 

He could feel her shaking below his hand, he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or pain. In a number of seconds the wound had disappeared, just leaving her exposed, pale and flawless skin. When he glanced up at her face he noticed her breathing was ragged. She seemed stunned by his actions, motivating him to move. He would not stayed bowed before her as if she had any kind of import. 

Standing at his full, imperious height he remarked coldly down at her. 

“The bars will open in the morning when you are to start.”

He turned on his heel but this time he made sure to leave the torches lit, when he glanced back he saw the shards of the bowl that he had broken on his last visit. He made sure to vanish it before disappearing, it would not do him any favours if she decided to kill herself with a sharp piece of porcelain just to avoid servitude. 

It would be good for him to have a servant, a woman around to clean up. All his followers had their wives and elves to wait on them, it is only right the Dark Lord had the same thing. It was befitting to his station to have her chasing after him, it’s not like he was ever going to have a wife. That thought was laughable. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort was woken by the bright Autumn sun streaming into his room. He had forgotten to close the curtains properly. He sat up frowning as he heard tinkling noises in the distance. It took his sleep addled brain a moment to realise the probable source of the noise. 

His new servant sounded to be hard at work. The bars to her prison were set to open at half five so he knew she had likely been busy working for a number of hours. 

With a groan he threw back the duvet and got himself dressed for the day. He had a lot of preparations that needed to be made and lying in bed was a wasteful use of his time. He left his room, frowning at the portraits hung up in the hallway as he walked down to appraise the work of his servant. 

The paintings were all of old, dead purebloods from centuries ago. All part of the Nott family; their proud expressions sneered down at him. One of his earliest tasks had been to recruit pureblood support with a particular emphasis on fundraising. Victor Nott had been very generous and had even included the Dark Lord in his will, donating one of his ancestors manors. The well maintained property fortunately fell into his possession pretty quickly as the wizard had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. 

He had altered very little around the manor since he came into ownership, simply moving his scant possessions in. He kept most of the furnishings - not because he found them particularly aesthetically pleasing but he had to keep up with appearances with his followers. 

On his way to the kitchen at the back of the house, he passed the dining room and was surprised to see her there. She was bent over the table arranging the cutlery for him at the top of the table. A generous selection of food was spread out on the table. 

He noticed the dark haired woman had finally changed into her new uniform, it wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting. She was wearing a thin, silky creme shirt with a long black skirt thing — it reminded him of the old pinafores the girls at the orphanage wore. 

Voldemort, not having the first idea about women’s clothing had owled Lucius to have his wife order some women’s garments for him, suitable for housemaids. The last bit seemed like it had been lost in the message somewhere although he wouldn’t be surprised if that was how the Malfoy’s wanted their servants dressed. Appearances were always the most important thing to them. 

He smirked as he thought about the blonde woman ordering the clothes, she had no idea they were for her estranged sister. Bellatrix might have been wearing something totally different, if she had known. 

The woman in question must have noticed his presence as she glanced up at him and immediately straightened up, backing away from the table cautiously. 

He made for his seat as he admired the spread before him, most of it was reasonably well cooked, the bacon looked a little burnt but he was surprised she had managed so well without a wand. Inattention to his food would normally merit punishment but he thought it might be nice to at least start off with a more relaxed atmosphere. 

She shifted from foot to foot beside him and he knew she was undecided whether to stay or go. He only took a sample of the toast and tea, he wasn’t particularly hungry. It was such a waste. 

“Come here.” He signalled her with a crooked finger and she softly walked up to his side. He pointed down to the toast he had just spread. “Take a bite.”

She seemed paralysed beside him as if she couldn’t understand a simple instruction. “I- I’m sorry?”

“I want you to taste it.” He picked it up and offered the slice to her. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

His short, sharp remark forced her to reach for the toast but he yanked it out of her reach. “Taste it, don’t touch it.”

At last she understood and hesitantly leaned forward to take a tiny nibble off the corner, just about getting a taste of the spread. Voldemort didn’t fail to notice how blood red her lips were, despite how pale her skin was. He dropped it back to the plate and waited for a beat for a reaction. Her eyes seemed to light up in understanding and when he was satisfied he waved her away from the table so he could begin eating.

“You may have the bacon when I am finished, it is burnt anyway.”

He saw her nodding out of the corner of his eyes, her dark curls bouncing. He really should have made her tie it up. 

“Thank you.”

Voldemort waited until he had swallowed his mouthful before correcting her. “Master.”

She looked a little puzzled at his comment — and he had thought she was intelligent. 

“Thank you master, that is what you say now.”

He continued to eat but hid his slight smile when he heard her quiet voice. 

“Thank you master. Would-” She stumbled over her words as she stepped forward. “Would you like me to clean up your room now master?”

He enjoyed how the word just slipped of her tongue naturally but was perturbed at her question. Did he want her in his private sanctum? Well, she was a servant — or more accurately a slave, so it was her job. It was not as if she could tell others about what she may find, it’s not as if her opinion mattered at all. 

“Yes, do. You also need to prepare two of the guest rooms on the floor below mine before this evening.”

“Yes, master.”

“I will summon you if I have need.”

She bowed her head slightly as she scampered from the room. Voldemort took a moment to watch her retreating form before he pulled out his wand waving it over the food. He wanted to ensure she only ate what he was gracious enough to offer, such close proximity with food would only be a temptation. 

He whispered the words under his breath to curse the food, it she ate anything but the bacon it would sear her tongue. She wouldn’t be able to eat for days; a just punishment for theft. 

 

* * *

 

 

Igor stared intently at his dark haired servant as she leaned over to refill his firewhiskey. Voldemort felt an odd mix of pride and irritation at the man’s obvious enrapture. 

The two men were sat in his study on the leather armchairs positioned in front of the blazing fire. Bellatrix placed the crystal decanter back on the side table before silently departing the room. He stopped her just before she passed through the door to remind her. 

“Bring me the cigars.”

His guest seemed impressed when she nodded dejectedly. “Yes, master.”

Igor Karkaroff was a recent acquisition, he was well placed as a teacher at Durmstrang to bring both young trainees and build foreign connections. The man himself was still gazing at the door, a strangely lustful expression on his face. With a throat clear, the dark lord drew the man’s attention back to himself. 

His accent was so thick, it took a moment for him to understand. “Your woman, she is very pretty. You must find her an awful distraction, no?”

The dark lord shook his head disapproving, this was the problem with men, couldn’t see past a bit of skirt. “The cause is much too important for me to be distracted by such pointless things. She does a good job, that is all I am interested in.” _And the only thing keeping her alive._

_“_ I would like to get one but my wife wouldn’t like it.” He grimaced with the thought. “Old woman, looks like a sack of potatoes, it would do me some good.”

Voldemort just about resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man, he had no interest in the foreigners sex life - or lack thereof. 

“In the morning I want you to meet with Lucius Malfoy. He will take you into the ministry where you can have a chat with the head of International Magical Relations. He has also arranged an impromptu meeting with the secretary of Cormac McBriggen. I want you to emphasis the importance of teaching dark magic in schools to her. The ministry has such little influence in the school with that old goat in charge but they are our best bet.”

Karkaroff spat at the reference to the Hogwart’s headmaster, unsurprisingly he did not approve of the man who defeated Grindelwald all those years ago. 

They were interrupted by the reentrance of Bellatrix. She was carrying an intricately carved wooden box which she opened up to offer her master. She stood with her back to Igor, seemingly trying her best to ignore him. 

Voldemort accepted one of the cigars, unwrapping it from its plastic and giving her a nod. She finally faced the foreign man, holding the box open to him. Apparently sensing how uncomfortable she was, or not caring, he leant forward to deeply inhale from the box. 

“These smell exquisite, my Lord. Just what is needed with a fire whiskey, don’t you agree?” He smiled up questioningly at Bellatrix. She gave a quick jerk of her head, unsure if she was really required to answer. 

He pulled one out, unwrapped it and placed it in his mouth, sitting at the corner of his beard. “Well? Come on darling thing, light it.”

Bellatrix placed the box on the side table, before pulling out a box of matches from her skirt. It amused Voldemort that she was unable to use magic to do something as simple as lighting a flame — it was a delight watching her fussing over trying to light the multiple fireplaces throughout the manor. 

She leant over Igor to light the cigar, holding a hand up to prevent it from blowing out. He took a hold of her hand to steady her and inhaled enthusiastically as it lit. 

“This is very nice.” 

He let go of her and she turned to the dark lord, holding the matches questioningly. “Master?”

Voldemort gave a nod in permission and she leant towards him, he could tell the proximity was making her anxious. With a delicate flick of her wrist the match was lit and he watched her face crease gently in concentration as she tried to hold it steady. 

He nearly jumped when she gave a surprised squeak and stood bolt up, his eyes immediately picking up on the stray hand resting on her bottom. The startled woman stepped back out of Karkaroff’s reach and looked to him nervously. He waved his hand nonchalantly in dismissal before addressing his guest. 

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself Igor, I do not appreciate nearly having my face burnt off, you need to be careful.”

He heard the door close as she left them in peace. 

“You realise if she had burnt me, I would have had to kill her. I would have been very annoyed at the waste, I would have had to take out the rest of my anger on someone else.” He looked pointedly at the thin man opposite him. Obviously getting the message, he gave an audible gulp.

“Apologies, my Lord. It’s just I spend my days surrounded by beautiful young things I can’t touch, sometimes I just can’t resist.”

“Well, I hope you have better self-control when it comes to tasks I ask you to carry out.”

He simpered back. “I will my Lord.”

“Enjoy your cigar. The guest room has been set up for you on the first floor, it should have everything needed for your comfort.”

“Thank you my lord, it is a great honour to be your guest.”

Voldemort replied as he stared thoughtfully into the fire. “I know.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

The plastic mannequin was incinerated in a blast of blue fire. Barty Crouch Jr was grinning smugly, first at his instructor then over to the window at the Dark Lord. Voldemort ignored his success to focus back down at the documents he had been sent. It was boring, really just mind-numbingly boring. He usually just palmed off work like this on someone else, his acquisition of power was supposed to be a result of his magical superiority, not because of stupid administrative work. 

He glanced up at the two men again as distant shouts of exertion reached him from outside. The dark lord was not used to having this many people around his home. 

Karkaroff was to stay for another two days until he had to return to Durmstrang. Barty Crouch had recently been kicked out of his home, at least that was how the young man had interpreted deliberately antagonising his overbearing father. The boy had sought out his Lord to help him, Voldemort had only acquiesced, if he agreed to stay for two days to be taught by the professor and that he would then move on. He also knew it was the perfect way to manipulate the young boy; a father complex was the easiest insecurity for an older man to play on. 

Brushing the papers aside, his thoughts turned to other avenues of solidifying his power. He still had in his possession the Slytherin locket, his own family heirloom. He had yet to make it into a horcrux but he sensed it was the appropriate time. He just had to find a suitable victim, one worthy of being sacrificed. The other preparations were straightforward enough but he still grimaced as he thought about what he would have to go through again. 

Barty gave an excited exclamation as the mannequin was turned to a pile of dust, gently blowing away in the light, chilly wind. He could see the cheeks and nose of the young man were bright red from the cold, his tutor did not seem quite so effected by the temperature. After a brief chat, as Igor pointed his wand at the dust to vanish it, they made their way back up to the manor. 

At least Barty was taking his lessons seriously, he was reasonably intelligent, coupled with an intense curiosity and his need to impress made him a very valuable follower. 

Voldemort flicked his wand in the air, producing a spell of his own creation. After a couple of days with his new servant, he realised he needed a way of summoning her within the large manor that didn’t require him just shouting out her name like an idiot. Something like a dark mark but obviously not that. His first idea had been a ring that would signal her but in the end he felt that might have sent an odd message to her. Usually when a man gives a woman a ring, it is about a little more that just servitude. In the end he settled on a necklace, well a choker to be exact. It was velvet and in the centre, just over her throat was an obsidian stone. It burnt her when he wanted to draw her attention but didn’t leave a mark. He was quite proud of this idea, it meant she still looked presentable, was in easy reach and the symbolism wasn’t lost on him either. She couldn’t take it off, it was a constant reminder of her servitude. 

It didn’t even need a protean charm as she was never too far from him and she was the only one that had it. Therefore a simple spell was enough to draw her attention.

He heard her light footsteps approaching on the carpet floor and within seconds there was a sharp knock at the door. He called out lazily. “Enter.”

Bellatrix arrived beside him, head slightly bowed. He pushed his chair back out away from the desk at an angle to face her better. She was always much more interesting than his paperwork. 

“I want dinner served at half five. There will be another two guests so make sure there is enough food. I may be late, so I want you to start serving without me.”

“Yes master.” Her voice sounded blocked up, as if she had a cold. Of course, with magic in her blood she should be able to fight off simple muggle colds. 

He crossed his legs at the ankles as he leaned back more comfortably in his chair to examine her. “It must really hurt your pride to have to call me master. It’s funny how you were so adamant that you wouldn’t join me, and have your freedom yet here you stand at my beck and call.”

Her head jerked up and he was pleased to see a glare on her face, he knew she was taking every last bit of self restraint to stop herself from saying anything, she had too much self preservation to dare. Her normally pale face was flushed in anger. He decided he would have a little more fun, put her back in her place. 

With much less effort than he had originally needed, he dove into her mind. Her resistance was breaking down and she seemed to be allowing him greater access to older memories. 

_A young Bellatrix was smilingly gleefully as she sat on the older man’s lap. She looked to be about five years old, her luscious curls fell down her shoulders and she was wearing a white puffy dress with a blue silk belt around the waist. The Dark Lord recognised the man to be Cygnus Black, wearing luxurious royal blue robes and sat back on a wide armchair. His arm was wrapped around the girl, holding her close to him as he pushed her hair back behind her ears._

_“Did you have a good day Bella?” The older man’s voice was full of good humour._

_“I did father, I was learning my words and Miss Fawley helped me write a letter for baby Andromeda.” She pulled a folded piece of parchment to wave in his face._

_He patiently waited for her to return it to her pocket as he enquired. “And did you get to see Andromeda?”_

_She pouted, looking down at her hands as she swung her legs. “No. Druella said I didn’t deserve to see her, she was too small and I might make her sick. She was too busy to see me and sent me away.”_

_He seemed to just watch the young girl for a moment as she swung her legs more violently, sensing she had something else she wanted to say._

_“It’s not fair that Andromeda has a mother. Why don’t I get one?” She stopped moving suddenly to stare up at him pleadingly._

_Cygnus looked much older and tireder in that moment. He grasped one of her tiny hands into his own and allowed her to try and entwine their fingers as he answered. “You had a mother Bella baby, but she died just after she gave birth to you. She gave her life so that she could give you to me as a special gift.”_

_He gave her a quick peck on the forehead adoringly but she frowned at the answer. “But Druella didn’t die when she gave you Andromeda. That’s not fair.”_

_The older man gave a sigh, as if contemplating how much he should reveal to the girl. “Your mother wasn’t like Druella or myself. She had dirty blood in her, not pure magical blood. It made her weaker so she wasn’t able to recover so she died.”_

_Bellatrix’s lip quivered at the revelation. “But I have dirty blood too, don’t I? Am I going to die?”_

_He smiled at her reassuringly as he pet her back soothingly. “No, you are not going to die Bella. You have dirty blood but it is only half your blood, you also have my strong pureblood in you and that will keep you safe.”_

_She seemed overjoyed at this news and eagerly clambered up to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug._

The Dark Lord pushed passed the quick memory, he found it mildly interesting but it didn’t provide him with the ammunition he wanted to use against her. There was nothing humiliating or emotionally devastating in its content. With more force he searched again, undoubtedly she would be hiding the type of memories he was looking for. 

_The scene changed rapidly and he recognised one of the hallways down in the dungeons at Hogwart’s. Bellatrix was in her later years at the school, just as attractive as she was now but with a rounder, more youthful face. Her dark curls were much shorter, just about reaching her shoulders and she was dressed in her Slytherin robes._

_She was biting her fingernails with a hurt expression on her face as she faced the older boy in front of her. He was tall, dark haired and undoubtedly received a lot of attention from the younger girls. He was looking down at her, arrogance plastered on his face._

_“My Bella, so foolish. You were always such fun.” He gave a patronising chuckle and the young girl looked to be on the verge of tears. Her cheeks were flaming red in embarrassment and anger. He raised his hand to her cheek affectionately but she stepped back out of his reach, avoiding his touch as if it was poisoned._

_“I don’t understand how you can say all this?” Her voice was high and watery._

_The boy rolled his eyes at her reaction, sighing in exasperation. “For Merlin’s sake Bellatrix, what did you expect? I thought you knew this was just a casual thing. You aren’t a pureblood, we could never be in a relationship. Lynsey is from a good family, generations of purebloods. We actually have a future together, something I would never have with you.”_

_“But…?” Her voice caught in her throat as she seemed to be on the verge of sobbing. She took another step back away from him as he laughed at her._

_“This is ridiculous Bellatrix, have a bit of self-respect. You know enough about our traditions to know what was going to happen. You were nothing to me. An easy distraction.”_

_The younger Bellatrix let out a strangled noise, like a devastated hiccup. She took short, rapid steps back away from his mocking as if to flee. Instead of bolting though, she stopped rigid and whipped out her wand. Her face was contorted into hurt and rage, he noticed her wand hand was shaking. The air was practically crackling with magic._

_This time, the older boy took a step cautiously back, he held up his hands in an attempt to look non-threatening instead of pulling out his own wand. The arrogant expression was gone now, replaced with alarm._

_“Now don’t do anything stupid Bellatrix, you are already on probation. You could be suspended if you do anything and my family will come down on this school like a hammer if you dare.”_

_This did nothing to soothe the enraged girl and with an elaborate swing of her wand he was thrown back down the hallway, writhing in pain._

_His screeching was high and piercing. Calm now, she gracefully approached him to admire her work. He was scratching at his skin as thin spikes had erupted out making him look like some sort of agonised porcupine. She only spent a short moment dispassionately watching him before walking back down the corridor, only pausing for a moment to have one last mournful glance._

Distracted as he was, Voldemort was finally repelled from her mind. She was breathing heavily, as if she had been physically fighting as she watched him. Her face was a mural of emotions — embarrassment, anger and fear all painted across it. 

“Poor little Bellatrix. It must have been so difficult for you, spending your entire life surrounded by those better than you. So close but never quite good enough for them.” He gave a cold, tinkling laugh at her. Her jaw was tense and the rosy colour rose in her cheeks again. He knew it must be killing her, with her temper, to resist his taunts. 

It was just too easy to rile her up. “That must have been so humiliating. I suppose its not surprising though, you lot are always attracted to your betters. Trying to seduce them and dilute pure magical blood.”

She was so tense, he was sure she could tear a muscle any second. There was a hint of challenge in her eyes and her hands were clenched. He blithely wondered if there was a point he could push her to, where she would try to retaliate. She seemed intelligent, so likely not. 

With careful movements he stood from his armchair, happy that the dark haired woman inhaled a deep breath as he moved to her. She was frozen to the spot, he had not given her permission to move. 

Voldemort looked down at her, eyes bowed in deference now, the flushed colour still in her face. He could hear her slightly rattling breathing and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead from exertion. He had to admit, the dark haired woman had been fortunate in inheriting all of the Black’s best features. And apparently, their temper too.

The tension must have got too much for her because she glanced up at him at last, a question lightly whispered. 

“Why—?”

He never gave her the chance to answer. Raising his hand in a flash, he slapped her hard across the face, a crack reverberating around the room.

He ignored her pained whimper as he grabbed a fistful of her soft dark curls and yanked her hair back. She was forced to bend backwards, on the verge of losing her balance without his support. 

“You don’t get to question me. You are my slave, _my_ prisoner. You do whatever I tell you without question or I will kill everyone you love before skinning you alive. Do you understand me?”

He didn’t wait for a response before throwing her to the ground. She coughed pitifully as she tried to gather herself.

“Make sure dinner is ready. I expect the highest standards.” Without another look he swept from the room. He was angry at her, she had that effect on him. One moment he was find her intriguing and amusing, the next he wanted to beat her, hurt her and hear her scream for him. It was no more than she deserved. 

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

As soon as the Dark Lord appeared in the large atrium of his manor he could hear the clattering of dinnerware and raucous laughter. Obviously his guests had already begun. He pulled off his dripping robe and with a wave it floated over to the coat rack in the corner. Slicking back his damp hair he made his way down the hall on the left to the dining room.

Upon opening the door the room silenced immediately. The four men sat around the large banquet table that was weighed down with food stood to attention at his entrance. In unison they gave a brief dip of their heads in deference, murmuring their ‘ _My Lords.’_

He approached his own empty seat at the head of the table. “I see you all managed to start without me.”

Rodolphus threw a panicked glance at Lucius opposite and the young blonde spoke nervously. “Bellatrix told us that you had ordered us to start if you hadn’t returned, she insisted.”

Voldemort wasn’t surprised at the men’s cowardice, to blame a woman when they thought they were about to be punished. “Good. I trust she has provided you exemplary service.” 

He elegantly took his seat and signalled the others to follow suit without waiting for an answer. He would find out soon enough just how hard she was working. “I have invited you into my home this evening, my loyal followers for an opportunity to develop closer bonds,” he indicated Igor. “As well as discussing your progress and our future strategies.”

Pouring himself a reserved measure of the ancient elven wine, he lifted it to the others. “But to start, a toast I think. To blood purity.”

Imitating their lord, the four men each lifted their generous drinks into the air, smirking and yelled out arrogantly. Voldemort helped himself to small portions of the well prepared food, giving permission for the others to begin eating again. 

“Now tell me, how have you been getting on Igor?”

Karkaroff nearly choked as he tried to quickly swallow his food to give an answer. “My Lord. I have enjoyed my sojourn in Britain and it has been very productive. As you know I have been teaching Barty some of the more basic dark arts — it is astounding how little your Hogwart’s students know but he is enthusiastic at least.”

Barty glowed at his remark but Voldemort just ignored him. “Lucius and I met with Mr, umm,” he glanced at the blonde across the table before the name came to him. “Mr Leopold, the international minister. He was very interested to develop relations with the East. He appeared sympathetic to our cause, or at least agreed that pure-bloods should remain in a position of power. He was however very reluctant to show any kind of outward support for you or the death eaters - doing so he claimed would be political suicide.”

Lucius interjected at this point to get his own opinion across. “He didn’t want to give us any idea that he would ever join the cause, I don’t think we could flip him into a spy but for the mean time he is well placed and relatively easy to manipulate. For now, he is best left were he is but if it came to it, he would be easy to sacrifice.”

The Dark Lord acknowledged their remarks as he slowly enjoyed his steak. Without a word from him, Igor carried on. “I also managed to have a chat with your education ministers secretary. She was obsessed with her missing cousin, we couldn’t really get her to focus on any other topics. It was utterly tedious. In the end, Lucius imperiused her, she may prove to be some use eventually.” 

He gave a chuckle towards Malfoy good-naturedly. “We actually managed to get our point across to the minister for education anyway. He overheard us talking in the canteen and ended up joining our conversation. He seemed particularly interested on our ideas about how teaching students a little about dark magic would help protect them at this dangerous time. Apparently he had already been thinking along the same lines and was telling us he was already introducing a bit of teaching on the unforgivable curses, how to recognise them and the laws regarding them and so forth.”

“This all sounds very promising.” He gave an approving nod before turning to Rodolphus on his left, signalling for him to begin talking. 

“I have largely been involved with the training of the new recruits, taking them out on raids — three this week in fact. Just co ordinating which recruits would be assigned to who. I think soon even Barty will be able to take on his own trainee, he has done an impressive job on the last few assignments where he has been given the lead.”

Voldemort waved him on, although he was pleased to hear of a successful recruit - all the ass-kissing was rather irritating. Plus the manic grinning the young lad on the far side of the table was giving him was putting him off his food. “Ok, well I want you to put that on the back burner for now. I want you, along with Lucius, Rosier and your brother to capture the Bones. Edgar or Maria must be brought in alive, the children can be disposed off. I only require one of them and the other should be killed.”

Lestrange and Malfoy both distractedly took a drink, having already finished their dinner. He knew they had every reason to be wary of the family. Edgar was an accomplished auror, a worthy adversary and his wife was very influential in the implementation of various legislations related to blood equality. They had been at the top of his list for making an example of but he had never specifically targeted them as of yet. 

“That traitorous bitch is always in the wizengamot, mouthing off about mud-blood rights. Taking her out would be devastating to their platform.” Barty was enthusiastically chattering as he scrapped around the last of his food on the plate, just playing with it. 

“It will take a bit of time to gather some information on them, they will be well hidden.” Malfoy was ever the pragmatist. 

“Have we managed to get a spy in the auror department yet?” 

Lucius shook his head at his colleague. “Not yet, we had one of the younger recruits apply but they were unable to make it through the training process. Another was rejected from a secretarial position. I think we need a different type of person to plant, those guys are always so suspicious of everyone.”

Voldemort pushed his plate away as he interjected, noticing that everyone else was finished. “That would be an idea now, wouldn’t it.”

Sensing the underlying sarcasm they were wise enough not to speak. With a flick of his wand the remaining food and dishes disappeared into the kitchen. She would know they were finished by their arrival. “I trust you enjoyed the food, there should be dessert ready soon.”

As he spoke, Bellatrix entered the room with an ancient silver cart loaded with their desserts. Picking up three of the plates, she carefully placed them in front of Voldemort and his two closest followers as all the men watched her. Hurrying back, she gathered the others plates and the table was loaded with sumptuous desserts. 

Malfoy and Lestrange were both smirking at her and he noticed she appeared quite harried, he was sure they had fun taunting her whilst he was absent. She returned to his side once the table was full and pointed to the wine. 

“Would you care for more master?”

He gave her a quick smile at her politeness. “No. Thank you.” Dismissing her with a wave, she and the cart promptly disappeared. 

“I trust you still haven’t told your wife about my new help?”

Lucius shook his head firmly, still smiling snidely. “No, my lord. Although I am sure she would approve of the use you have put her to, at least this way she can be of service to the cause. In a position befitting her status.”

Igor bursted into the conversation in disbelief. “That woman, she is your wife’s sister?”

Scowling at the implication, Malfoy turned his attention to the foreigner. “They are half sisters, my wife is a pureblood from an ancient family, generations of purity. That woman, is a half blood, that weaselled her way into a noble house. And was later disowned. They are nothing alike, my wife has principles and her pride.”

Karkaroff guffawed. “That’s a shame if they are _nothing_ alike, I would have been jealous if your wife looked anything like her.”

Voldemort snorted at the indignant expression on Malfoy’s face, trust the foreigner to lower the tone. Of course, he knew Malfoy’s wife looked almost like a female version of the man himself. It was probably wise for Lucius not to mention that though. 

 _“_ Anyway, are there any developments with infiltrating the muggle ministry?”

Barty snorted at the other side of the table. “What do we want to do with those stupid creatures?” He laughed at his own remarked, it seemed the wine had gone to his head. 

The other men were quiet, sensing the change in tone and Voldemort waited for the laugh to trail off. Barty collected himself nervously then. “It is not your job to question my decisions Barty.”

“I- I’m sorry my Lord. I just, obviously I don’t understand things the way you do.”

The younger man fidgeted anxiously, he hated disappointing the Dark Lord. 

“That’s right you don’t,” was his own stern response.

They sat in tense silence for a moment, every one had stopped eating before Rodolphus cautiously broke the atmosphere. “Rosier has imperiused a couple of junior members as far as I am aware. The more senior politicians, including the prime minister have an auror or two positioned close to them. He will get there, I think its just taking a bit longer than anticipated.”

“I expect results soon, procrastinating is unacceptable. Much longer and I will believe he needs a bit of extra motivation.”

Malfoy leaned forward on his seat to eagerly share his news. “I hear that Jenkins is planning on standing down as minister. Apparently the rise of blood tensions and the increase in crimes and raids against mud-bloods and muggles along with all the murders and missing people have made it impossible for her to stay. The public are demanding more to be done, the party is falling apart under her and she is losing support. I think even within the next couple of months she will be gone.”

Voldemort leaned back in his seat considering. This was very useful information, it was a shame that she was stepping down as she was a weak leader, much easier to get things done with her in charge. Her replacement could be much more proactive about dealing with death eater activity but it could prove an opportunity to knock the ministry over once and for all. Would he really be ready to take it in the next few months?

“I guess you do still have your uses after all, Malfoy.”

Rodolphus gave his companion a mocking smile at the somewhat disparaging comment but he ignored them. It was beneficial to have a rivalry between his two death eaters, it encouraged much better work. 

A sweeping glance across the table revealed that they had finished their desserts, Voldemort had only taken a bite out of his own treacle pudding. It was time for his guests to leave, having them for dinner was about the limit for his hosting. He needed his own space and although Malfoy and Lestrange were loyal followers, he did not particularly enjoy their company much.  He didn’t want them to become too comfortable in his presence. 

 _“_ I have things I need to do and I am sure you two need to be returning to your wives.”

Getting the hint the two men stood immediately, placing their napkins beside their plates. “Of course, my Lord. Thank you for dinner.”

“Yes, thank you my Lord. Good evening.” 

They apparated with two loud pops. His remaining guests followed him in standing. “Thank you, hopefully we will see you tomorrow if we are fortunate enough.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t deign to answer but with a quick flick of his wand sent the remaining dishes and leftovers into the kitchen before turning on his heel and leaving. 

 

_______________________________________________________________________

 

 

Karkaroff had finally returned to Durmstrang school, which meant Barty had also had to move on. He was currently staying with Regulus and his parents for the weekend before he would move to Rosier’s. Voldemort had strongly suggested he get back to speaking terms with his father, it would be advantageous to the cause to have Barty Jr positioned so close to the man who was in charge of hunting them down. The young lad had promised he would try but it may take a while, his father was a rather unforgiving man. 

At the present time Voldemort was standing at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement. He could hear low voices talking but couldn’t quite understand what was being said. 

Yesterday, Edgar Bones had been brought to him as he had commanded, the rest of the man’s family had been killed. He would be the death required for his horcrux. The man had thwarted a number of his plans and it was believed he was even responsible for inadvertently killing a couple of his death eaters. 

Before he had decided on Bones as a target, he had briefly considered using Bellatrix. It would be a fitting tribute for her, a noble end to her pathetic life but he had decided against it — why deprive himself of her services? The woman did not know how close she had come to death which was probably why she was talking to the other prisoner. In fact she seemed rather pleased for the company, someone she could talk frankly to, answer back. Earlier in the day she had even built up the nerve to ask him if she could give some food to the other man. He permitted but didn’t have the heart to tell her there wasn’t much point. Edgar would be killed long before he would have the chance to starve to death. 

Pointing his wand towards his ears, he cast a spell that would temporarily enhance his hearing, allowing him to discern their conversation. 

“How have you managed to survive so long here?” The man asked with only a hint of curiosity, he mainly sounded tired and hopeless. 

“I don’t know.” Her voice was soft and much calmer than when she spoke to him. “Everyday I wake up here, I am convinced it will be my last day. One day I am going to make too big of a mistake or he will just be in the wrong mood, or bored and he will kill me.”

She didn’t even sound too upset, just resigned to her fate. There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice almost cracking. “Is anyone looking for me?”

Something in the way she asked the question make him feel uncomfortable, a sentiment that seemed to be mirrored by the other prisoner. 

“I… I think I remember seeing a file with your name on it. I think your landlord reported you missing when you stopped paying your rent, especially when he contacted your boss who also said you had vanished. I mean people are disappearing everyday and some of them are just taking off, leaving the country for their own safety. Everyone must have just assumed that’s what happened to you. In fact Sirius was saying you had recently been captured by you-know-who, he said he wouldn’t blame you for upping and vanishing.”

The noise of her gentle weeping hit him up the stairs and Edgar tried to comfort her. “I’m sorry. The aurors have your file, they are looking and you will be freed, don’t worry.”

She seemed to be trying her best to stop her tears and just gave a couple of heaving gasps instead. “It’s, its not that. I know I will be dead before they find me but…” 

There was silence again, Bellatrix seemed unable to continue. He knew what she had been unable to vocalise though, no one had cared that she had gone missing. No one had even noticed except her landlord — after a month. It must have been a horrible realisation for her to only now understand how truly isolated she was. There was a harsh wracking cough for a couple of minutes before he was able to hear anymore conversation. 

“Hush now, you managed to survive this long, just keep doing what you’re doing. I on the hand, will certainly be dead soon. It is all I can pray for; the chance to rejoin my family.” This time the sound of crying was distinctly male. “My babies, god they are too young for this. And Maria, my beautiful Maria.” He was practically howling by now. 

Voldemort heard shuffling and realised she must have left her cell to comfort the man as her soft murmurs where muffled. He didn’t like that, her cell was open so she could serve him, not so she could offer false comfort and hope to his other prisoners. He had wanted to terrify her, make her realise how disposable she was by placing the man close to her before murdering him. Well, there was still plenty of time for that. 

In a pathetically desperate voice he heard Bones whisper to her. “I am so scared.”

“Me too. I just have to keep lying to myself, telling myself if I can just make it through one more day it will be ok. But I am so scared, all the time.”

Edgar gave a watery, feeble laugh. “I know this is horrible to say but I’m glad you’re here.”

Part of him debating breaking up their pitiful attempts at comforting one another but what was the point really? Both of them had a death warrant over their heads, he was in control of how long they would live, let them have each others miserable company. After all, it would only terrify her more when her companion is killed.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The manor was eerily quiet when he woke in the morning. He had got used to noise about his home, from his guests and his servant usually bumbling about completing her chores. It felt like a bad omen, not that he really believed in things like that. Voldemort got up and pulled his robes on, it was one of the benefits of having a servant, his clothes were always neat, soft and spotless. 

He made his way down to the dining room, he had gotten used to the ritual of breakfast even if he wasn’t always eating. The room was completely empty, left in the same state it had been the night before. Voldemort frowned, he was furious at her neglect of her duties but he also felt something else, something far too similar to worry. 

That in itself was worrying, why should anything his servant do cause him to feel anything less than disinterest. He stormed into the back of the house to the kitchen, maybe had she slept in and was running late.

Again the room was empty — spotless from last night but there was no indication that anyone had been in the room since. He heard a muffled ruckus that caught his attention, the sound of shouting seemed to emanate from the cellar. Obviously his prisoners had a death wish. 

The Dark Lord pulled out his yew wand and charged down to the basement, glad he had the prisoners to at least take his anger out on. The ranting became clearer as he reached the top of the stairs, it was clearly Edgar Bones yelling. He quietened down as he stomped down the steps, he noticed the bars to Bella’s cell were open — so she had no excuse for tardiness then. He glanced at Edgar who was stood at his own bars, warily pointing into his companion. 

“It’s Bellatrix, she is sick, she needs help.” 

Voldemort cast a silent stupefy and the man flew back into the wall, dropping like a bag of potatoes. Anxiously he made his way to her cell, looking in from the door he saw her on the tiny bed. The thin sheets were twisted around her legs awkwardly, stopping her from tossing and throwing them off completely. 

He stepped into the dingy, dim room to assess his servant. Bellatrix’s thin white nightdress was drenched in sweat, in fact if he been interested in looking he could pretty much see through it. Her wild hair was also matted to her forehead with sweat, her cheeks were rosy red despite the pallor of the rest of her skin. Her eyes were cracked open, not quite seeing anything and she was murmuring softly. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? He was more used to putting people in delirious states, not trying to get them out of it. With some reluctance he bent over her, reaching his hand to her neck to clasp her just below the jaw. Her skin was burning beneath his hand as he tried to raise her head a little to try and wake her, to get some sense into her. 

“Bellatrix, get a hold of yourself.” He only muttered it, not expecting his words to have much of an effect. She was limp in his hold and he dropped her back onto the soaked pillow. She merely jerked agitatedly as she gave a faint moan. 

With an annoyed sigh he left, striding determinedly to the nearest fireplace back in the dining room. He threw in the floo powder, irritated that he had to stoop to such levels and popped his head in. Lestrange manor came into view and he could see the Lady of the house examining some sort of design swatches over the table. He hissed her name and if he hadn’t been in such a foul mood he would have laughed at her screech. 

“My lord?!”

“Get your husband, tell him to contact Severus and have him apparate to my manor immediately.” Not giving her a chance to reply he withdrew from the fireplace, coughing as he inhaled a bit of soot. 

With some hesitancy he returned to the basement, he felt out of his depth which was a feeling he did not enjoy. She hadn’t moved much since he had left her, goosebumps had risen across her skin but he could still practically feel the heat radiating off her. 

It just didn’t make sense, she was magical so simple things like colds and flu’s were not supposed to have any real effect on her. How had she become so sick? Was it some defect inherited from her impure side?

Voldemort couldn’t abide by doing nothing so using a simple cutting spell, sliced a small section of her sheet, bundled it up and soaked it in the basin of self-replenishing water he had supplied. He gently placed it on her forehead like he had seen them do in the orphanage when the young, underfed children were sick. He half expected her to open her eyes and laugh at his ridiculousness, he had no idea if it was the right thing to do. He was immortal for Merlin’s sake, he shouldn’t have to think about pointless things like sickness. 

It was with relief he heard clacking steps on the basement stairs and Severus appeared urgently. “You call for me, my Lord?”

The professor immediately caught sight of the feverish prisoner but made no further move without direction. If Voldemort could still do something as human as blush, he might of as he kicked himself for putting that stupid sopping cloth on her head. He spoke imperiously to regain the upper-hand. 

“This prisoner appears to be very ill, I would prefer it if she did not die yet, I trust there is something you can do?”

“Certa-“

He didn’t have a chance to finish as Bellatrix suddenly seemed to tense up in the bed and started jerking awkwardly. Her head was thrown back and it disturbed him that he could see her eyes had practically rolled back into her head. 

Snape jumped into action, dropping the small black satchel he had been holding and rushing to her, he seemed to be trying to get her on her side as he supported her head. He frowned in confusion as his eyes lit up in recognition. 

“This is Bellatrix Black?” It was only half a questioned and totally ignored by the Dark Lord. 

He felt utterly baffled by what was going on, no matter the situation, he had always had powerful magic to help. This was something else though.

“My Lord, I have a range of potions in the bag, there will be a couple that we can give her to stop this. A dark greyish one, should be labelled, and a kind of pink one in a thin vial. Can you find them?”

He knew he should have been angry at practically being given orders by a follower but he just needed to do something, anything. Yanking the clasp open and almost certainly breaking it, he rifled through the neatly packed potions, impressed at the expansion spell Severus had placed. He found the more distinctive pink potion first and handed it over, not bothering to watch it being administered. Voldemort could see out of the corner of his eye that her movements had become a lot less violent and he smiled when he spotted the second potion. 

The lank haired young man supported Bella’s head as he precisely poured it into her partially open mouth. Voldemort had to commend him on his technique and his calculating manner. The man was unflappable.

At last Bellatrix stopped moving, her eyes had closed now and she was still. Snape laid her head back down and they both watched her expectantly for a moment, her breathing was rattling and discomforting. 

The professor pulled out his wand, tapping the top of the empty bottles so that they flew into his open bag before waving his wand around the unconscious woman as he analysed her. 

“It is fortunate that you called me when you did my Lord, if you want me to preserve her life.”

Voldemort scowled at the remark. “Of course I want you to or else why would I have bothered, I can see how unwell she is but I’m not losing out on a perfectly good housemaid just because her filthy blood has weakened her so much.”

Snape ignored his comment about blood purity, he often forgot the man was a half-blood, the professor had little interest in the propaganda. “I take it she has been living the entire time in this room? It is not surprising she has become so sick.”

He pointed up to the far corner of the room and Voldemort noticed for the first time the thick green slime that covered parts of the wall. Almost as if it sensed they were talking about it, it slowly receded back up into the corner.

“That’s what’s been making her sick? Mould?” 

“It is not just normal mould, my Lord. It grows on magical blood, probably lived off the blood of a former victim of yours that had been killed here and became strong enough to then leech off Bellatrix. The damp, cold in here is a perfect environment for it and if her immune system had been under stress, such as if she were not getting as much nutrition as she needed, she would be particularly susceptible. If she had any open wounds it would have been easy for her to become severely effected.”

Voldemort glared at the younger man, he knew he was inadvertently accusing him. “Is it curable?”

“Yes, but judging from her symptoms it has spread to her nervous system. She will need an intense regime of potions to clear her system and I would suggest she is removed from this room, at least until it can be banished.”

He looked down at the woman debating with himself, it would be an inconvenience to him to lose her, much easier to just do as Severus was suggesting. It wouldn't exactly be a clean death either if he left her.  “Alright, there are servants quarters in the attic. She can stay there in the mean time.”

Snape was only half listening as he bent over her chest. “Ok, I think it is safe to move her at the moment, the sooner we get her out of this room the better.”

The thin blankets were tugged off of her and Severus bent low to lift her off the bed, one arm under her slim legs, the other under her shoulders. Her head fell against the young mans chest but her long, dark hair cascaded down obscuring her face. Voldemort lifted the black potion bag and led the way out of the cell. 

Snape only paused to glance into the opposite cell for a moment at the unconscious occupant. “Is that Edgar Bones?”

He didn’t bother to respond to the question, Snape didn’t need to know everything he was up to. They ascended the spiral staircase off the kitchen, it rose several floors to the top of the manor. The servants quarters consisted of a large open plan room, there were ten beds in the room arranged in two rows. At the far side of the beds was a bath tub and a small walled off area that he was sure must have a toilet. The beds were currently covered with dust covers but with a wave of his wand the nearest one was uncovered and he conjured blankets. 

With surprising gentleness, Severus placed the unconscious woman down on the bed on top of the covers. He glanced around for his bag and raised his eyebrows when Voldemort passed it to him. 

“Fortunately I have a small supply of the required potions but I will need to brew more for the full course. She will need to be given them several times a day.”

The younger man looked up at him with unspoken question — who would give her the potions? It was hardly like he could be expected to wait on his own servant, it was ridiculous. He answered firmly, “It is Friday, you can stay here for the weekend until you must return back to Hogwarts. The guest room has been made up again since Karkaroff left, you can sleep there.”

Severus knew there was no negotiating. “I will need to return briefly to gather some things and to explain my absence.”

“That is acceptable.” Voldemort observed for a minute more as Snape softly spoke a few spells, moving his wand rhythmically over her. He noticed her fingers twitching but there was no other reaction from her even now. 

He made his way back to the stairs to return to the main part of the manor, he did not have the time or patience to sit by someones sick bed. A couple of days would be all it would take and she would be back to serving him, it was as simple as that. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

Voldemort slowly climbed the steps up to the servants quarters, shaking his own head at his behaviour. Snape had been taking care of his servant but he thought it was about time he checked her progress. The professor had currently sequestrated himself away in the potion room

The room was dimly lit, the curtains were closed on the windows built into the ceiling which gave the room an almost orange hue. Bellatrix was still in bed; asleep or unconscious he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless he approached, his footsteps silent on the wooden floorboards. 

He glanced at the empty vials left on the bedside cabinet as he stood over her. “Bellatrix.” His sharp voice pierced the silence but she gave no indication of hearing him. It seemed as though Severus had given her something to deeply sedate her. 

This was his chance to get to know her better, he would be free to get in her head without her even being aware, without her judging him for doing so. She looked much more at peace than when he usually saw her, her skin whilst still pale appeared much healthier, he would almost call her serene. Severus must have used some kind of cleaning spell on her as her hair was much softer and cleaner than it had been in the height of her fever. He couldn’t help but notice the blanket over her had been pulled down slightly to relieve the soft swell of her breast under her nightdress. 

It made him incredibly uncomfortable and he promptly tugged the blanket up to cover her. Even a moment longer and he was worried he would be tempted. There was something about her he felt disturbingly captivated by. Trying to not think too hard about it, he sat on the edge of her bed and watched her softly breathing. 

Despite her living in his home for weeks now, he barely knew anything about her, nothing more than what he had read in some books and the humiliating memories he had invaded. What exactly was it that he wanted to know though? It frustrated him to no end, he was the Dark Lord, he had a million other far more important things he should be doing. Yet here he was, creeping into an unconscious woman’s room, his own servants no less. 

He disgusted himself really but he refused to let that stop him. He should be allowed a little indulgence after all that he had mastered and once his curiosity was sated, he could focus on other things and forget her. 

 With much less force he pressed into her mind with legilimency, there was practically no resistance now. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. 

 

_Bellatrix was sat on the floor in front of a roaring fire with her two younger sisters, it was obviously Christmas time as there was a large extravagantly decorated tree off to their side. All three girls were looking at the mass of tightly wrapped gifts left under it._

_“I can’t believe we have to wait until tomorrow, you think we could even open one tonight, look how many there are.” Young Narcissa was pouted as she picked at the threads on the ornate rug she was lounging on. “It has taken so long for Christmas day to come.”_

_The middle, brown haired girl snorted. “Stop being so impatient Cissy, it takes the same amount of time it does every year. And you will be glad tomorrow that you didn’t open any of them.”_

_Ignoring her sister, the blonde girl crawled over to the mound to examine a neat little box wrapped in blue wrapping paper with an obnoxious bow the had the Malfoy insignia on it. “I just want to know what it is though, surely there is a spell that would let me just look inside,” she hurriedly finished. “But not open it though, I don’t want to set that alarm off again.”_

_  
Bellatrix shrugged, finally joining in the conversation. “Well they knew you didn’t want to wait, it’s hardly a surprise they used magic to make sure you didn’t spoil it.”_

_Narcissa gave a puff of annoyance, she knew her sister was right but it didn’t stop her from not being happy about it._

_“Don’t worry Cissy, I’m sure Malfoy got you something ridiculously expensive, probably stolen out of his mothers jewellery box.” Andromeda laughed at the look of outrage on her sisters face. The younger girl practically chucked the present back down and try to pounce on her sister, they ended up wrestling in an undignified pile on the floor._

_Bellatrix just looked on, smiling at them. She knew if Druella were to come in at that moment she would go mental and undoubtedly she would be blamed for not intervening and for spreading her poor manners. Which was a bit rich as she had much better manners than the other two girls, she had always had to make an extra effort in their lessons._

_Although she loved Hogwarts, she really enjoyed being home over Christmas. Even the little things didn’t bother her as much at this time of year. It no longer fazed her that she didn’t get as many presents as her sisters, that her extended family, apart from Alphard, would conveniently forget to send her something. It was just nice spending time with her sisters, just like it used to be before school. Before Narcissa had started to become embarrassed to even acknowledge her in front of her pureblood friends and before Andy spent all her time off with her mysterious boyfriend._

_Plus she would have a chance to see her cousin tomorrow when they arrived for lunch, the little baby of the family, Regulus. She couldn’t help but dote on the young boy, he was a little angel and as equally as taken with her. He was a lovely distraction from her other cousin whom she merely tolerated. The boy couldn’t be described as anything but a brat, as the heir to the Black family, he had been utterly spoilt. The boy had zero interest in the family values, in fact he seemed to take joy in going against any and all teachings his parents tried to instil in him. Despite really only being a child, Bellatrix thought he was the most selfish, ungrateful little thing. He had been privileged to be born as the heir into one of the greatest wizarding families in Britain and was happy enough to just chuck it away just to antagonise his parents._

_Brushing off these thoughts she rolled her eyes at the two girls and stood, leaving them with words of warning. “You better hope your mother doesn’t come in and see you two acting like that, messing up your pretty robes, she might decide you don’t deserve any presents tomorrow.”_

_It had the desired effect and Cissy immediately pulled herself off the brunette girl looking panicked. “She wouldn’t? Would she Andy?”_

_She looked to her other sister but Andromeda only shrugged as she fixed up her dress back into position. Bellatrix decided to leave them to it, sitting in front of all those presents with nothing else to do made waiting seem unbearable._

_Leaving the room she had intended to go to her own bedroom and pass the time reading but the notable absence of adults struck her. It was typical for her father to be elsewhere in the manor, usually busy with work but Druella was usually bustling around close by. She turned to walk in the opposite direction towards her fathers study, that was the most likely place for him to be._

_As she crept down the hall she heard voices, Druella and her father both seemed to be deep in debate. Their voices were not coming from the study but from the tapestry room instead. The large room held copies of most of their genealogical records as well as an intricate design of the Black family tree covering the walls which gave its name to the room. The faces and names went back centuries and she knew there was another version at her cousins in London._

_Bellatrix had never much liked the room, as an illegitimate daughter and a half-blood she had never made it onto the tapestry. It was hardly the greatest injustice but still, it had never quite sat right with her. Her father had explained the ancient magic imbued on it, prevented the addition of any undesirables, or the accidental, embarrassing appearance of bastard children from cheating husbands. Pushing the thoughts aside, she snuck a little closer to listen._

_“I don’t know why this is even an issue.” Druella sounded harried from the other side of the door, her voice was verging on shrill._

_In response her father was much calmer although he too sounded fed up with their discussion. “You know why Dru, she is seventeen next month. She will be of age, we should already have been giving this thought.”_

_Druella sounded offended at the remark. “I don’t have to give it any thought Cygnus, she is not my daughter.”_

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just this effects the other two as well. It is tradition for the elder daughters to marry before the younger ones.”_

_She bit back with an exasperated tone. “There is nothing traditional about this. She will have no bearing on when Andromeda and Narcissa will marry.”_

_“But you must admit it would be a lot easier if she was married, it would put to rest any suggestion of impropriety.” He gave a deep sigh. “I just want your help, you have much more of an idea about these things than I do.”_

_“Well, I’m just not sure exactly what you want me to say. Obviously it would be best for all of us if she managed to find a pureblood to marry her but that would be a nearly impossible challenge. Someone with a weak family background, that just about qualifies as pureblood may be appropriate but then it would be likely that they would want to maintain their purity and try to marry up. You may have given her your name but she would still be a step down for any type of pureblood.” She seemed to only pause for a quick breath during her monologue. “A blood traitor you could argue may be the next best thing, but then what would she be, a half-blood that married a traitor. That’s two strikes against her. Of course the other option would be to just leave her, let her find someone on her own of her own kind. Another half-blood, at least that is what is expected for her anyway.” Her voice suddenly became icy. “Unless we just send her off to work for another pureblood family and just pray she gets knocked up by them. Its in her blood anyway, she should find it easy enough to ensnare some married pureblood man and then her bastard whelp can leech of them instead.”_

_“Druella.” Cygnus voice was stern this time. There was a pause in the conversation for a moment as both parties seemed to be calming themselves and thinking of a way forward. Druella finally broke the silence._

_“It was unfair of you to do this Cygnus. Not just to me and the girls but to her as well. She is not one of us, no matter how much you try to deny it. Just…just try and find some half-blood, it would help if they were wealthy or had good roots. It’s the best you can do unless you find a pureblood that is clinically insane. Mind you, that might not be so hard.”_

_Her voice had soften a little with her attempt at a joke. Bellatrix knew that was about as good as it got for Druella, the woman was hardly know for her sense of humour. Taking a steeling breath, she slipped out of the hallway and stumbled towards her own room._

_Her heart was pounding in her chest but she had no idea how to feel. It was like two sides of her ripping apart. Her father wanted the best for her — which was never going to be that good anyway but he was trying to marry her off to become someone else's problem. She was only sixteen, she didn’t want to settle down yet. What was the point for her, she wasn’t pureblood so didn’t qualify for the advantages of their traditions but she was still to be married off? But then the other half of her was at least glad he cared enough to try. Druella believed that she was a lost cause, that no one would want her, at least her father was making an attempt._

_Bellatrix slammed her door close behind her when she finally reached her dark room. She leant back against the door taking deep gulping breaths so as not to let any of her warring emotions get the better of her. She would not be made to cry by this, she was better than that._

 

Voldemort was pulled out of the memories by a knock from somewhere behind him. A little disorientated for a moment, it took him a second to realise Severus was stood at the doorway, the obvious source of the interruption. He was carrying a small tray with several potions on it and appeared nervous and disturbed by what he had walked in on. 

_“_ Come in, I was just checking on her progress. It seems as if your potions are doing their trick.” With deliberate slowness he stood from her bed, resisting his natural impulse to just jump up straight away in an attempt to make it seem as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

Severus, apparently still ill at ease, skulked into the room. He set the tray down carefully on the bedside cabinet with the other empty vials as he glanced at Bellatrix nervously. It was as if he was checking she hadn’t come to any harm which Voldemort just about resisted scoffing at. Why would he allow Severus to stay in his home to heal the woman and then just sneak up to hurt her? What would be the point in that?

“I will let you get on with whatever you are doing.”

With a purposeful stride he left the room, descending to the rest of the manor. He was angry that he had been caught out, as if he was a naughty child out past curfew. It was his home, he was entitled to go anywhere he felt without having to explain himself. For a brief second he debated sending the young professor back to his school, at least that way he would have his privacy back but he knew he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be long now anyway, until she was better. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

A knock at the door distracted him from the financial reports laid out in front of him. With a flick of his wand they vanished out of sight and he swung his seat around to face the door. 

“Come in.” 

The heavy wooden door was pushed open and Severus silently entered, clearly his throat awkwardly. “My Lord.”

He gave a swift bow of his head and waited to be addressed, his eyes remaining downcast. 

The Dark Lord gave an abrupt response, he wasn’t going to do anything to make the man feel more at ease. 

“Severus.”

“My Lord, I must return back to Hogwarts. I have just given Bellatrix her last dose of potions for the day.”

Voldemort fiddled with his wand between his fingers as he observed the younger man. He had not deigned to visit the servants quarters since he was caught the last time. There was tenser than usual air about the younger man, likely because he felt he had been made privy to something he absolutely should not have witnessed. 

At breakfast that morning he had managed to catch a glimpse into the professors mind. A snapshot of a memory had been lingering near the surface, enough for him to gain some insight. Snape had been sat on her bed, in the very same position he had occupied when he had visited. It was much darker in the room, lit only by candles and was obviously a memory from the night the Dark Lord had been caught. 

He felt an intense emotion, a deep wish that things had been different. Voldemort couldn’t really understand the sensations that the young man had been weighed down with. The young woman on the bed had weakly opened her eyes at him, although there did not appear to be any recognition. More just a sense that there was a presence close by her. 

 _“I should have warned you.”_ It was all he said to her and her eyes fluttered closed, not hearing his softly, whispered words. His voice was heavy but it was more emotional than he was used to seeing the ever stoic young man. Voldemort could feel the need for him to try and redeem himself; the man felt guilty that she had been caught, that he had known about the Dark Lord’s interest in her and had done nothing. It was bizarre he should feel this way, about a woman he barely knew and considering the rather disturbing things the professor had already carried out under his orders.

Almost immediately he had felt the younger man close his mind. Severus was a very accomplished occlumens so he should not have been surprised that he had sensed an intrusion. Breakfast had been a very awkward affair after that, Snape had been extremely tense and had excused himself rather abruptly. 

Standing before him now, it didn’t appear as if he had relaxed any. “How is she?”

“I have given her a sleeping potion so she should be out for the night. She is slowly recovering her senses, hopefully by tomorrow she should have enough strength to take the potions herself. I left clear instructions with the rest of them on how they are to be taken.” He paused for a moment, seemingly considering whether to speak his next words. “I don’t think she will be able to take up her domestic duties yet, it would be best if she had a couple of days more recuperation. Possibly even a week.”

Voldemort frowned, he had got used to having help in his home and he hadn’t kept her alive just to lounge about. “What about the dungeons?”

Snape seemed relieved that there was no further question about her work schedule. “I have managed to eradicate it all but I think it would be best to wait until she is well to return her there. Moving her now may only lengthen her convalescence.”

The Dark Lord stood slowly, impressed that Severus resisted flinching. “I will remember what you have done here, you will be rewarded in kind. I trust that I don’t need to remind you of your duty of discretion.”

“Of course my Lord. I only pass along information that you permit me to divulge.”

“Well, for clarity I will reiterate, you are not to pass on anything you have witnessed here.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I suggest you use the floo in the dining room. Go back to the school via your own home. You have done everything you can here so I suggest to leave now.”

“Thank you my Lord.” With that final acknowledgement he eagerly swept from the room.

Voldemort sat back down in his seat and summoned his papers again. He was displeased at Snape’s intrusion and at the conclusions he had drawn. It appeared he felt there was more to her being kept alive than a simple need for a maid. It was true that he liked having her in the manor, liked having someone who was so well placed to entertain him when he little else to do. He did not want Severus to think that he wanted, or even worse, needed her around for any reason other than this. He was not some simple-minded or weak man and it would not do to have his follower think she held any importance to him - otherwise he would definitely have to kill her. 

With a bored sigh he started to work his way through the reports again, for now he would leave things the way they were. He would leave her upstairs for the time being, it would be a useful punishment to be able to threaten her with returning downstairs and he wouldn’t mind keeping her apart from his other prisoner. He was planning on creating his next horcrux within the next couple of weeks, once he knew she could take care of everything again. Then he could finally get rid of his other, mouthy prisoner and solidify his immortality. 

Only then would he consider removing her as well. 

 

________________________________________________________________________________

 

Voldemort awaited his guest’s arrival in front of the roaring fireplace in the library. He didn’t usually spent that much time in the small, cluttered room — the Notts did not have a particularly impressive book collection. For a pureblood family, he had been rather disappointed by the lacklustre room, packed largely with genealogy tomes and thick financial ledgers. There was the odd history or potions book but nothing particularly educational or of use. He had of course collected his own books over the years but these were generally kept up in his private rooms. 

He had however found a thin, crumbling book on magical creatures. It was so old, he knew that some of the theories and surmises had since been disproved but it was also just about accurate enough for his simple needs. The book itself was laid out on the small reading table beside him, along with a small pile of worthless potions texts that Severus must have been sifting through during his stay. 

The fire blazed green for a brief flash and one of his younger followers stepped through and bowed deeply. Regulus Black was draped in fine, deep purple robes with the small Black crest sewn in silver along the border. His straight black hair was combed back neatly and when he finally looked up, Voldemort could see the family resemblance with his maid. The same nervous flicker of the eyes. 

“My Lord, you wished to see me?”

“Yes, I did Regulus. Come, sit.” With his wand he pointed to the old rickety chair on the opposite side of the reading table. With a degree of stiffness the younger man made his way to the seat and anxiously grasped onto the table when it wobbled slightly with his weight. 

His cheeks pinked at his own alarmed reaction especially when he realised the Dark Lord was smirking knowingly at him. 

“I have heard good reports about you from Rodolphus. How many raids have you been on now?”

Regulus cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Four now, my Lord. The Lestrange’s are planning for us to cause a bit of havoc at the coming weekend at Hogsmeade, to cause a bit of panic with the students.”

“I am aware. As long as Rodolphus is prepared for an attack that will force Dumbledore to descend from his lofty pedestal within the school.”

The young Black did not seem wholly sure how to respond so simply agreed. “Yes, my Lord.”

Voldemort stood now, moving to stand in front of the fireplace, watching the flickering flames for a moment before looking down on his follower. He was keen to just get straight to the point, he was never much good at small talk. “I did not bring you here to discuss your progress, as I am sure you have guessed. Your family has a house elf, isn’t that right?”

Confused, it took a brief moment for Regulus to reply. “Uh, yes we do my Lord. One in my family home and then a few others dotted about the other properties.”

The Dark Lord had already known this of course. “Good. I want you to summon your elf. I require its service in three days time. I want to ensure it will fully obey me.”

Startled, the younger man stuttered back. “You want me to summon it here, now?” Almost forgetting himself, he hastily added. “My Lord.”

“Yes, now.” His sharp voice left no room for confusion. 

With a gulp Regulus called out. “Kreacher.”

Almost instantly there was a loud crack and a shrivelled, wrinkled elf appeared before them. He was wearing a piece of black cloth wrapped around his body with the same silver Black insignia stitched onto it. The creature bowed deeply before Regulus. 

“Master Regulus, how can I serve you?” 

Before his owner had a chance to respond the elf caught a glance of Voldemort and his eyes widened comically. “It is the Dark Lord. Such an honour, it would fill Mistress with such pride if she could see her young Master Regulus here serving the Dark Lord himself.” 

It seemed as if the elf would continue to drivel on but he was interrupted hastily by Regulus. “Kreacher. I need you to assist the Dark Lord. He requires your service, three days from now he will call upon you. You must answer him and you must obey all instructions he gives you, as if it were me giving them to you. Do you understand?”

Kreacher bowed deeply before the Dark Lord, who was rather unimpressed by the whole scene. “It will be my greatest honour Master Regulus. You can rely on Kreacher to obey, I —“ He was cut off short by his master again, who was obviously used to his long dramatic declarations. 

“Now Kreacher, you mustn’t tell mother what I have asked you to do. You can’t tell anyone, alright?”

Satisfied with what he had witnessed, Voldemort waved away the elf before he answered. “You may send him home now.” He did not want to give the ugly creature another chance to start prattling on again. It appeared as though he had its full loyalty although he never could be fully sure with the slippery things. 

“Of course my Lord. Return on home now Kreacher.” With a last over the top bow to both men, the elf disappeared in a loud crack. 

Regulus warily waited to be dismissed similarly. He should be so lucky. 

“House elves; I find them to be such bizarre things myself.” The Dark Lord spoke mostly to himself, as he gazed into the fire again, knowing it would make the younger man very uncomfortable. “In fact I have never had much faith in them.” 

Swivelling around to observe the dark haired man again he pressed on. “But no matter, I have managed to find my own, very satisfactory house elf. It does such a wonderful job about the place, I think I should introduce you two.” 

Regulus appeared rather baffled, but there was an anxiousness in his eyes, the almost friendly expression on the Dark Lord’s face was never a good omen. There was no other reaction as Voldemort waved his wand, a summons sent to his house servant.

They both waited in tense silence, the only noise emanating from the crackling fire. The younger man looked positively alarmed when the sound of soft footsteps could be heard advancing, it was obviously not from a house elf.

The wooden door creaked open and Bellatrix deftly stepped in before approaching Voldemort, her head tipped in deference.

“You called for me Master?”

He didn’t respond as he was too busy admiring the horrified, twisted expression on his guest’s face. The younger man gasped out, almost as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. Bellatrix had not even glanced in his direction, too focused on trying to stay on her master’s good side, she rarely paid attention to his guest’s or their mocking taunts much anymore. 

“Bella?!” Regulus of course, didn’t have quite as good discipline. 

It was absolutely delicious, watching her placid, blank mask crack as she recognised the voice. Her head whipped around to face the younger boy, who in turn had half stood up from his seat, hands bracing himself on the chair arms. She was frozen in place but still managed a faint whisper. 

“Reggie?” Seemingly realising it actually was her cousin, and perhaps realising it meant the young man was a death eater, she let out an anguished sob before desperately trying to stifle the noise with her hands. 

Voldemort was half convinced they would run towards each other so decided he needed to break up the little reunion. It was time to remind them both exactly whom they served. With a delicate twitch of his wand, the bucket of coal that sat by the fire to keep it lit was knocked over, black dust rising off it.

“I think there is something that needs Miss Black’s attention.” He wondered briefly if she heard him as she completely still for a moment, still fixated on the other man but soon the spell was broken. He just about resisted the urge to smile gleefully as she turned her back on the younger man to crouch down by the fire. She picked the pieces of coal up carefully but still managed to cover her hands in the filthy black soot. 

Voldemort wasn’t watching her though, he could watch her down on her knees cleaning up after him any time he wanted. It was his follower’s reaction that he was enjoying. He knew the young lad was still somewhat hesitant to fully dedicate himself to follow him, he had thought perhaps it was just cowardice. Now though, he realised it was the young man’s pride. He was now the heir to a powerful family (though not as powerful as it had been in years passed) and his pride made it difficult for him to follow another. The young woman, now covered in filth before him had been someone that Regulus had looked up to and had a great respect for. If he was able to show him how easily he had mastered her, how willing she was to serve, it should be easy to gain his full, undivided loyalty. 

As she was finished up, he dismissed her. “That will be all, go return to whatever you had been doing.”

The dark haired woman nodded mutely before heading for the door. Her eyes mournfully watched her cousin before it seemed she couldn’t take it anymore and scarpered from the room, head down. As soon as the door closed, Regulus practically rounded on him, his words accusing, verging on insolent. 

“What have you done to her?” His fists were clenched tight as he sat on the very edge of the chair, it looked as if he was resisting pouncing up. 

“You don’t need to worry about her, Black. She has learnt her place and now understands that she must obey me. That I am worthy of her faith and that I can be merciful. As long as she remembers this, she will be valuable and she will be safe.”

“But -?” The young man was flushed, he looked as if the words he wanted to speak were about to explode out of him but his self-control managed to keep a lid on it. Voldemort knew if the young lad had said half the things he had wanted to, he would have spent the better part of the afternoon under the cruciatus curse — if he was lucky. 

“It is honour for her to provide such a service to our cause, particularly when one considers her blood and although she was disowned, your family can still consider it a positive reflection on themselves.”

Regulus looked like he couldn’t care less about the family pride in that moment, his mouth was still open and closing, unspoken words rolling around in his mouth. 

Voldemort clapped his hands suddenly, trying to break the man out of his stream of thoughts. He didn’t need to use legilimency to know they were bordering on blasphemous. “That will do. Leave now Black.”

The young man stood, his body tense and gave him a sideways, contemptuous glance before he grabbed some floo powder from the mantle. He gave a perfunctory incline of his head and a murmured ‘my Lord’ before vanishing into the fire. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

Voldemort leant heavily against the stone wall to support himself. His body was in agony, every time he created a new horcrux, the effects seemed more severe and longer lasting. He stumbled to the door, he would clean the room later, or better yet get his servant to wipe up mess. By hand of course. 

He squinted as the bright winter sunlight hit him as he stumbled out of the crumbling mausoleum. The walk up to the manor looked never ending but he couldn’t risk apparating, in his state he knew he would almost certainly splinch himself. With agonised, measured steps he slowly climbed the path. He vaguely noticed his hands were still bloodstained but he made no attempt to remedy this. 

After what felt like an eternity he pushed open the side door. The house was warm, it was a nice change from the wintery air outside. Bellatrix was nowhere in sight and for once he was glad. He assumed she was on the other side of the manor in the kitchen. 

His head was starting to throb now with the effort of moving through the house. He felt the locket thump against his chest with each step up the stairs. It took all his effort to not lean against the wall to keep himself upright. Just a little further and he could relax.

His vision was blurring by the time he finally reached his room. With a swish of his wand, the heavy curtains closed over, shrouding the room in darkness. He practically collapsed onto the bed, he didn’t even bother to change out of his grimy, bloody clothes. 

Voldemort groaned as he opened his heavy eyes. His limbs were stiff and aching and he felt totally disorientated. His gaze wandered around the room but with the curtains closed, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night. He had no idea how long he had been out, whether he had even been sleeping or just lost consciousness. He felt no better for the rest.

There was a quiet knock at the door. That must have been what woke him originally. Without thinking he yelled out, his voice hoarse with sleep. “Yes?”

He heard a click and slowly the door creaked open, letting in a sliver of light. He shifted his head slightly, mindful of the ache he felt as he did. 

Standing in the doorway, haloed by the light behind her, was Bellatrix. She nervously shuffled into the room, peering into the dark to see where he was. Her sheepish voice was low as she spoke.

“Master? I’m sorry for disturbing you. I just…” She caught sight of him on the bed, curiously watching her and she stepped back a little, half out the door again. From the expression on her face, he knew she was regretting interrupting him. “You have been in here for two days, I was worried you might be hungry or ill or something?”

Two days, he had to admit that surprised him, perhaps not as much as the fact it seemed she actually cared. In his heart he knew she was just trying to avoid punishment for herself by neglecting him but it felt strange, someone even pretending to care about his welfare. It made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Perhaps she was just checking he hadn’t died and she was actually free. 

Two days though, that was much longer than he expected. He had never been out so long after creating a horcrux and he still felt as if he was at deaths door. He was pushing the bounds of magic, excelling where no one had dared try to before but it still disturbed him. He was determined to make seven horcrux’s in total, it was a sacred number and sure to guarantee his immortality but he hadn't anticipated an accumulative effect from the dark magic. 

He would have to consider it later though, currently his slave was still peering at him in terror, waiting for some kind of backlash. 

“I have been performing immensely powerful magic that has required that I rest for a while. Make me some,” he didn’t even know what type of meal to ask for. “Food, just whip something quick up. Go.”

She scarpered quickly, closing the door behind her. He groaned as he tried to straighten up, it wouldn’t do him any good to continue lounging around and he did not want her to see him in such a vulnerable position again. It was fortunate that her fear had dominated her, made her entirely obedient, especially considering he had left the door unwarded whilst he had been asleep. He may have horcrux’s but he didn’t want to lose his body, not to be betrayed by his servant who decided to try and murder him whilst he slept.

Easing himself off the bed, he dumped the bloodied cloak on the ground. The rest of his filthy clothes were hastily taken off and he summoned clean robes for himself. As soon as he was presentable, he sat at the small table by the window and waited for food to be served. 

Despite not eating for two days he felt little hunger. He had no chance to ruminate on this further as Bellatrix pushed open the door, she was holding a tray covered with an array of breakfast foods. So it was morning then. 

He magically opened the curtains to allow light to spill in so she could see where she was walking as she approached him. He noticed her gaze flick to the locket still around his neck as she placed the tray down but she quickly resumed setting everything out for him. She worked with delicacy and precision, taking great care to set things out the way he preferred.

Voldemort looked up at her in alarm when he heard her sharp intake but she had quickly turned away from him, avoiding eye contact. “Is there anything else you would like master?”

Perturbed at her odd reaction, he shook his head. “No, that will be all.”

Bellatrix took her opportunity to leave, stopping to collect his dirty robes. She cringed at the blood stains but nevertheless gathered them up and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. 

The Dark Lord puzzled over the interaction for a moment, even the pleasant smell of food had not been enough to entice him. Curious, he summoned a hand mirror that was resting on the mantle piece, to examine his face. Something had obviously alarmed her. 

It took him a second to figure out why he looked so different, so terrifying, in the reflection. It was his eyes, they no longer just appeared bloodshot. His entire iris had turned blood red, giving him an morbid, sinister appearance. His skin, if possible had become even paler. Not just pale, it was sickly looking.

His new appearance pleased him, although it was a shame to lose his good looks. They had got him very far in life, it was unbelievable how receptive people were to a pretty face. He didn’t need that now though, he got ahead because of his strength, his ominous appearance would only help instil fear in his enemies.  It was an outward show of his immense power. 

Setting the mirror down he nibbled on some of the food. Making another horcrux definitely hadn’t improved his sense of taste or hunger and he eventually gave up. He placed the food down and took a sip of coffee to try and wash the taste of ash from his mouth. 

Voldemort pull the locket over his head and placed it on the table before him with a thunk. He had yet to place the dozens of protective enchantments needed to keep it safe but the locket was already imbued with some powerful magic. His body was still too weak to perform everything needed but when it was ready he knew exactly where the locket would be kept safe. 

Without much thought he summoned Bellatrix back, he didn’t want to look at the food any longer, the smell was starting to bring back his headache. It didn’t take her long to reappear.

 “Master?”

He waved his hand over the bowls. “Take this away.”

She approached the table cautiously. “Was the food not to your liking master?”

“It was fine.” He saw her eyes rest on the locket that had been left sitting on the table again. “Do you know what this is Bellatrix?”

She jerked awkwardly when she realised she had been caught staring. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

The dark haired woman was about to grab the nearest dishes and flee but he stopped her running away with a hand on her wrist. He felt her tensing under his hand in anticipation of punishment. She was surprised when he simply held up the locket for her to admire. 

“You were in Slytherin at school right? You should recognise this then Bella.” He knew he sounded just like the stern old teachers from his own days at Hogwarts.

Voldemort watched her eyes scan the locket to try and identify it, they widened in surprise when she spotted the serpentine S on it and deduced it’s meaning. Her voice was verging on awe. “Is that- is that Slytherin’s locket? I thought it was just a myth.”

Her attention was completely captivated by the jewellery. He enjoyed her reaction, he knew she would be impressed by it. She was a Slytherin and raised as a pureblood, she had enough knowledge to understand how valuable, how priceless the locket was. He wanted her to covet it.

“Yes, it is. It was passed down through his blood line and is now in my possession.”

She frowned in confusion, finally dragging her gaze from the locket to glance at him. “You mean -?” She stopped as she remembered whom she was talking to, it wasn’t her place to question him. He wanted to answer her though. 

“I am the last sole heir of Salazar Slytherin.”

Her mouth hung open for a moment in shock before she took a step back, unsure how to react. Time to remind her of her place. “Now take these away.”

Hastily she gathered the dishes onto the tray again. It seemed his revelation had unsettled her even more. 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

With a pop, Lord Voldemort apparated into the parlour of his manor.  He dropped the unconscious house elf with a thud onto the forest green carpet before he stumbled into the nearest chair. With aching bones he summoned his housemaid. It was clear he still hadn’t recovered from creating his latest horcrux.

Attempting to sit up straighter, he tried to appear nonchalant, Bellatrix had already seen him far too vulnerable in the last couple of days. She swiftly entered the room, alarmed when she noticed the house elf on the floor. She came to stand before him, asking in her distinctly feminine voice. 

“How can I serve you master?” 

“Call Regulus, tell him he needs to collect his house elf, use the floo.” He waved over to the unlit fireplace, if he had more energy he might have found her raised eyebrows entertaining. Voldemort pulled out his wand as she unsteadily moved, just as she grabbed a handful of the powder, he flicked his wand and long whip appeared, wrapping around her ankle. She dropped the powder in fright but it didn’t hurt her. It was merely a precaution to prevent her disappearing into the fire. He didn't have the time or energy to chase after her.

Quickly recovering from her shock, she chucked the floo powder in the fireplace and kneeled down. He vaguely heard her calling out for her cousin and a few murmured words before she jumped back out of the way, tumbling back off the hearth. She landed on the hard floor and glanced up at him, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment. 

She cautiously brushed her ebony hair back out of her eyes, offering him an explanation. “My aunt… she wasn’t too happy to see me.”

He watched her collect herself off the ground in surprise, she never voluntarily spoke to him, not without prompting. It appeared she hadn’t even realised what she had done but he didn’t draw attention to it. It almost felt natural. 

“You can deal with Regulus, just get him to take that thing home, it likely won’t survive the night.” 

The whip receded from her leg and he was able to reinstate the wards on the fireplace to prevent her escape. He stood slowly, trying to stop himself moving so stiffly but unable to prevent it from just looking awkward. The journey to his room seemed to drain the last of his energy and with utter exhaustion he settled himself in his comfiest armchair in front of the fireplace. Fortunately Bellatrix had had the sense to light it before his return. He did not want to analyse his motivations but aimed his wand at the large ornate mirror above the fireplace. The reflective surface seemed to shudder for a moment before it rippled and changed, from the reflection of his room to the view from the large mirror in the parlour. 

Bellatrix had yet to learn of this magic, originally created as something of an alarm system in his home. He had not had much use to watch her through it, he did not have time to observe chores being completed and there was no receptive mirror in the kitchen or her quarters. 

The woman herself currently had her back to him, she was leaning over the unconscious elf, presumably to see if there were any signs of life. There was a roar from the fire and she swivelled around, unconsciously wiping dust from her skirt before clasping her hands in front of herself. 

Regulus stepped out with grace from the fireplace, he quickly searched the room before realising the Dark Lord was not present and approached his cousin, smiling kindly. She seemed hesitant as he moved towards her but he stopped suddenly and gasped upon seeing his house elf. 

“Bella, my god, what happened to Kreacher?” The young man crouched beside the decrepit beast and seemed to make a quick assessment of its status. Alarmed, but at least relieved to find some indication that it was still alive, he looked up at his cousin as she spoke. 

“I don’t know. He wanted you to collect Kreacher and take him home, he said he will probably die.” Her voice was neutral, it was difficult to tell if she had feelings either way about that prospect.

“Jesus.” The young man sounded appalled. There was a natural pause for a moment before he spoke, his words carefully considered as he stood to face the dark haired woman. He seemed hesitant to face her.

“How are you doing Bella?”

She blinked at him for a moment before attempting to answer. “I…” She seemed unsure whether to continue, the words caught in her throat and as Voldemort watched, he considered if perhaps she suspected that he was still listening in on the conversation. She gave in at last and answered dismissively, not quite looking the younger man in the eye. “I’m alright Reggie.”

The dark haired man moved as if to embrace his cousin but she stepped back away from him. Hurt was written across his face but she was too busy looking at her feet to even see. She spoke with a deep shuddering breath. “Please, Reg, it’s okay. I am kept busy.”

This did not soothe his concern at all but he gave up trying to physically reach out to her. “Bellatrix, please. Forget I am a death eater for a minute, we are cousins. I hate knowing you are here, he is volatile and has no compunctions about killing. You are not safe.”

Her voice, though lowered, didn’t sound any less angry for it. Her eyes blazed in fury, it was the first time Voldemort had really seen her rage when it wasn’t directed at himself. She looked like a beautiful storm. “Do you think I want to be here?! I’m not like you Regulus, I didn’t get a choice. He was going to kill me, in fact one day I know he will. Just because of all this stupid blood purity ideology." Her voice became bitter but more subdued as she continued. “I thought you were better than that Reggie.”

The younger boy looked as if he had been slapped. Taking a moment to regain his voice he spoke desperately, beseeching his cousin. “You have to believe me Bella, it wasn’t my idea to join. He is always recruiting and you know mother, she forced me into it. I mean some of what he is saying makes sense but I never expected there to be such brutality. Or so much bloodshed.”

Voldemort had always known Regulus wasn’t the most eager follower he had. In fact many of his followers had been pressured into joining his side, they may not have the greatest loyalty but he needed the numbers and regardless, fear had always been a sufficient motivator. This discussion was bordering on treason and normally he wouldn’t stand for it. This once, he decided to wait and see where this went, he needed to fully understand the betrayal. 

“God, Reggie, you always were so naive.” Though her voice was exasperated, he could still detect an underlying hint of affection. She carefully brushed her hair out of her eyes, watching the man opposite, her curls were always trying to break free from her up-do.

“Please, I want to help you. You have to come with me now.” Regulus was wringing his hands in anxiety, obviously very aware how dangerous the conversation was, particularly given that it was taking place in the Dark Lord’s own manor. 

“You can’t help me. He has warded the manor to stop me leaving, I can’t even step out onto the grounds.” 

“But there has to be a way. I can’t just leave you here.” He looked gutted at her apparent lack of interest in escaping and his own impotence.  

Bellatrix turned to move away from him, her back to Regulus now but the Dark Lord could still clearly see her face. She was utterly without hope but wanted to shield her cousin from it, she knew it would make him feel even guiltier. “I have accepted my lot. Maybe you should be a bit more concerned about yourself, you are too young to be caught up on all of this.” She gave an angry huff. “And what about Sirius? You know he is part of the resistance, what if you have to face him? If you are asked to kill him?”

Regulus scrunched his noise up in disgust at the name. “I don’t care about him, he is an arse and deserves all he gets.”

She gave a quick half-smile. “I know you don’t really mean that.”

There was a long silence, as tension filled the room, neither of the occupants sure how to proceed. It ended up taking Bellatrix to break it. She looked over her shoulder at her younger cousin before pointing at the forgotten elf on the floor.

“You better get Kreacher out of here, I don’t think he is going to last very long and your mother would want him returned so he can join his family on the wall.” 

Regulus gave a tired sigh. “I am going to take him but I promise I will come back for you. You have to believe me that I will get you out of here. I will think of a way.” He reached for her again, this time she didn’t move away. He grasped her elbow to turn her towards him and held onto her hand. She didn’t pull back but still avoided eye contact. 

“Please don’t Reggie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I do promise, I will come back for you. Just stay out of his way, stay safe.” He pulled her forward for an embrace, he tightly held onto her but Voldemort noticed she only weakly returned it. Regulus buried his head into her hair and gripped her so tightly, it was almost as if he was hoping she would rescue him. After an age, he finally released her, she was biting her lip as she watched him collect up the elf. 

Regulus made his way to the fireplace, pausing for a last moment and speaking with conviction. “I will be back soon Bella.”

He disappeared in a roar of fire leaving the dark haired woman alone. The Dark Lord could hear her rattling breathing as if she was trying not to cry. It took her a moment to gather herself enough before she knelt to fix the rug that had been crumpled when the house elf had been lain on it. 

It was strange for Voldemort to see her when she thought she was alone. It pleased him that she was still dutiful in her work but her entire body language had changed. She was much more at ease as she pottered around, he could tell her thoughts were miles away. Everything about her became softer as her cold, fearful countenance gave way. It was startling but it made her appear younger to him, more vulnerable and he felt a strange kind of empathy for her. Well, not empathy, he wasn’t capable of that but perhaps an understanding. 

That was when he noticed something unusual. The young woman suspiciously glanced around the room to ensure she was alone before she silently walked over to the small glass bookcase against the wall. He knew from experience that there were only a few texts of any worth, a few books detailing the historical magical persecution by muggles - just the type of thing that would be expected to be found in a dark pureblood family. In fact they had duplicate copies in the library. The rest of the literature were poorly written romance novels, the type that could usually be got free at the bookstore after collecting a coupon in the Daily Prophet. 

It was a testament to her taste that once she had the glass panel front opened, she ogled the non-fiction, lightly fingering the ancient spines. That was not even what really drew his attention. Subconsciously, or perhaps not, behind her the cushions on the sofa were straightening themselves and soot and dirt was disappearing from the recently used hearth as the tub of floo powder reorganising itself. They were all small adjustments but without a wand it was very impressive. A sense of self-satisfaction filled him, he knew she was talented, yet again his instincts were proved correct. 

Oblivious to what was going on behind her, she pulled out one of the old books with great care. Glancing around again before she opened it up, the spine creaking from its long neglect. He watched her stood over the bookcase, absorbed in the text but managing to pull herself from the words every few minutes to ensure she was still alone. 

Voldemort had to admire her courage, she knew the severe punishment that would be in store for her if she were caught slacking and amusing herself with his possessions, it was a huge risk. Despite the half of him that wanted to go straight back down and torture her even in his exhausted state, the other half of him was immensely enjoying watching her. He understood why her father had something of a soft spot for her despite her blood, she was beautiful as she concentrated, biting her plump red lower lip. Her soft curls were barely held back by her hair clip and framed her classic Black face, strong jaw and pale skin. 

He was captivated by her, he only stopped watching her when she finally came to her senses and returned the book. When everything had been left as it had been she stepped out of the range of view from the mirror so he finally swished his wand to return it to its natural state. He had been observing his captive for longer than he had realised, the bedroom was dim as the last of the days light spilled through the window. 

With a measured snap of his wand the candles in the room lit as he pondered all he had witnessed. Such blatant disobedience and disloyalty, however expected, could not go unpunished from either Regulus or Bellatrix. He had to remind them both of the reason he is to be feared and eradicate all harboured ideas of escape from her mind.  First he just needed to regain his strength. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

_A young Bellatrix stood alone on the green grass in the meticulously manicured lawns of the Black Manor. The sun was shining and it was obviously the height of summer, butterflies were flying around the florid blossoms bordering the small section of the gardens. The rest of the family were standing on the steps leading towards the manor, stiff and awkward as they grouped together. Voldemort felt this must not have been long before the middle girl ran away judging from their apparent ages._

_Cygnus and Druella were stood behind Andromeda and Narcissa, the older woman had a hand affectionately rested on the younger blonde’s shoulder. A hired photographer stood before them, calling out directions as his magical camera clicked and emitted little puffs of smoke._

_“Just a couple more now, don’t forget to smile Mrs Black.”_

_Druella merely sneered at the man before returning to her neutral expression masking her thin face again. With her older, thin face and her thick hair scraped right back he thought it gave her a very stern appearance._

_Bellatrix kicked the ground petulantly with her shiny patent black shoes, she didn’t like the things, far too flashy for her taste and Druella was always quick to notice when they got dirty. She was fed up watching them but she hadn’t got permission to return to the manor. She had been permitted to be in the first photograph, stood beside Andy in front of her father so that all his daughters were in order of age. After the moment had been snapped she was promptly asked to step away. These photos would be kept for prosperity with extras sent to other families and friends so they did not want a half-blood sullying them._

_Although the dark haired girl was used to it, it still stung. The uncomfortable heaviness had settled in her stomach and would stay there for the rest of the day. She never understood why she was made to watch, part of her thought maybe they didn’t realise how upsetting she found it, to be excluded. Another part of her thought it was much more likely that they didn’t want her to get confused, so that she truly understood that she was not a real part of the family. With a heavy sigh she turned her back to them to admire the grounds, the clicking sound still firing off in the background._

_Witnessing the scene, Voldemort understood how she felt, always an outcast. At least she had a family though. At the orphanage, he clearly remembered the prospective parents playing and amusing themselves with the other children. It was rare for people to visit, most people were still recovering from the war and there wasn’t much money around for an extra family member. He had always felt unwanted, even more so than the other children as they, the staff and the visitors gave him a wide berth as they enjoyed themselves. It had hurt at the time, when he was very young but as he got older, he realised it was a good thing. It made him stronger, alone he could accomplish so much more and had eliminated the weaknesses that plagued others. It was a shame her experiences hadn't similarly toughened her up._

Rapidly the scene changed as the Dark Lord sifted through her mind to find another memory. Instead of the usual sense of hurt or anger attracting him towards various memories as he barricaded through her mind, it was in fact the hint of shame that drew him to the next.

_The room was different from those he had already seen at the Black manor. This was decorated on much darker tones, grey and navy gave the large room an oppressive feel and from the heavily curtained long windows little light got in, the day outside was overcast as light rain hit the glass. He guessed this house belonged to the other Black family as the three girls were accompanied by their male cousins._

_Regulus was only an infant and was sat up on the couch with Narcissa beside him, petting him and ensuring he didn’t roll off. Andromeda lay on the carpet, Sirius sat on the floor beside her feet, leaning against the opposite sofa with Bellatrix beside him._

_“I am so bored, why is there never anything to do at your house Sirius?” Andy questioned as she traced patterns on the ceiling with her gaze. “At least if I had been allowed to bring a book it wouldn’t have been so bad.”_

_Narcissa rolled her eyes at her sisters annoyed remark. “Can we please dress Reggie up then, like I suggested an hour ago.”_

_Andromeda actually raised her head at that as she exclaimed. “Merlin no, I’m not that bored.”_

_Sirius piped up as he narrowed his eyes at his brother. “And you don’t want to make him cry, otherwise he will never shut up.”_

_Bella blew a curl out of her face distractedly before offering a suggestion. “Why don’t we make up a game or something?”_

_“What about one where I can be a princess?” Narcissa asked hopefully._

_“Cissy you already are a princess.” Andy smirked at her younger sister._

_“Hey!”_

_They were ignored as Sirius exclaimed excitedly. “Can I be an auror then? I can save the princess from evil.”_

_Cissy squealed enthusiastically at the idea and her middle sister spoke. “I want to be an auror too. We need a prince though, you could do that instead Sirius.”_

_“No, I don't want to be a prince, I am an auror, I said it first.” The young boy crossed his arms and pouted dramatically, it was clear he usually got his way._

_Bellatrix became the mediator after she gave an irritated glance at her cousin. “Why don’t we make Regulus the prince, that way you can both be aurors if you want?”_

_Sirius smiled triumphantly but Andy frowned. “Well, what are you going to do then Bella, you can’t just be a referee.”_

_“Obviously she has to be the evil sorceress otherwise who would the aurors fight. She tries to kill me because of my beauty and my magic.” The young girl held a hand up to show off her face, as if to show off her good looks. It was a surprise how vain Narcissa was already, even at such a young age._

_“What? I don’t want to be the bad guy again.”  It was a weak complaint, a tiny frown had appeared on her face but Bellatrix knew she had already given in. It was always the role she played, she usually didn’t mind but it would occasionally be nice to be someone different._

_“Please Bella?” Cissy gave her sister her best puppy dog look knowing it was guaranteed to work._

_The dark haired girl gave a huff in defeat. “Fine. But if I’m evil you better get away from me because I am coming after you!” She jumped up enthusiastically, pouncing towards Narcissa on the sofa who jumped slightly. Sirius immediately sprung into action, jumping on top of her back and forcing her to the ground._

_The young boy squealed enthusiastically as he managed to hang on to his older cousin who was laughing good-naturedly. “Come on Andy, I’ve got her now, we have to save princess Cissy.”_

_Narcissa was fawning at the attention on the couch as Regulus tried to grab onto a lock of her golden hair. Andromeda gathered herself up from the ground to clasp onto her sisters legs to stop her struggling._

_“We have nearly killed the evil witch Andy.” The young dark haired boy reached into Bella’s immense curls, twisting his hand into them and yanking._

_Immediately Bella flinched and yelled out at the sharp pain. “Ow, Sirius, get off.” She tried to bat the boy’s hand away from her, all Sirius did was tug harder, a mischievous smirk on his face._

_“You have to die first Bella.”_

_The pain gave way to anger and as the oldest she was well able to throw the younger boy off her and kick her sister away. It did little good as Sirius had his hand wrapped so well that he simply pulled it as he tumbled back onto the ground._

_“Ahh, you little brat, let go.” With lightening speed she tried to rip his sticky hands from her, when this did nothing she grabbed his throat._

_“Let go of me!” Sirius merely smirked at her despite her hands tightening around his neck. He always enjoyed antagonising people especially his eldest cousin who was always the odd one out. It gave her a thrill as she noticed his arrogant expression fill with the first glimmer of fear as breathing became a challenge._

_“Stop.” His plea came out garbled but she was close enough to understand as she hovered over him, enjoying his panic. The hand in her hair had loosened now but she had forgotten about that now. His face had become deep red and his eyes looked like they were starting to bulge. Her knuckles were white as she put all her weight on his neck. His hands finally left her hair and grabbed her own hands trying to get them off his throat to give him relief._

_“Bella, stop. What are you doing?” Andromeda had come up behind her and was gently but insistently trying to pull her away. Narcissa was nervously watching and had shuffled closer to the infant boy beside her for comfort._

_Bellatrix didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop, Sirius deserved this. She didn’t want to kill him, she hadn’t even really considered that would be the end result if she continued as she was. She just enjoyed the look of terror in his eyes, the spoilt brat deserved this and she loved the thrill of power flowing through her. She barely felt Andy as she tried to pull her away. Instead she was focused on the feel of Sirius jerking awkwardly below her as he made a last attempt to claw her hands away from him. His head was thrown back in a desperate attempt to get air and his eyes were starting to roll away._

_In the end she only released her hold when Andromeda slapped her hard on the side of her head, the impact causing her ear to ring. Sirius gave noisy gasps as tried to suck in as much air as possible and Andromeda was watching her sister fearfully._

_The moment of power gave way acutely to shame as she saw the expression on her siblings faces. Mercifully Regulus was still too young to understand what was going on around him. Guilt settled heavy on her chest as she noticed the bruising already forming around Sirius’s neck and a glance at her own hands revealed the scratches he had desperately inflicted._

_Along with the shame and guilt, she felt the first pinpricks of fear. What had she done? Sirius was the heir and her younger cousin, the adults would be furious with her, especially his mother. This may even be the catalyst for them for finally just throwing her out, it had been threatened many times before._

_As much for his benefit as for her own she crawled forward to embrace the still shocked boy. Andy made no move to stop her and warily watched the two of them rocking, Bella trying to soothe the young boy._

_“I’m sorry Sirius, you’re alright now though.” She needed to calm him and try to save herself. “It’s okay now. No one else needs to know about that, you would get in trouble too. How about I go and steal some of those chocolates in the kitchen you like so much? Yeah?”_

_Sirius nodded shyly now, the arrogance temporarily knocked out of him. It wouldn’t be long before he was landing her in trouble again. Keen to get away and to keep him happy she stood, everyone still watching her. “I’ll get chocolates for all of us.”_

_Narcissa was smiling again, already forgetting the drama from a few moments ago. Bellatrix didn’t look in Andy’s direction but quickly scarpered from the room. Now she just had to fetch some chocolate and appease the spoilt little brat - that was always tough work._

Again Voldemort skipped the rest of the memory, he had already seen the part that would interest him. He knew it, even someone such as Bellatrix, always so insistent on doing the right thing, had a soft spot for power. Everyone does, it is the ultimate temptation. Everybody wants it but only a few people had the tenacity, the true unflinching desire, to seek it out no matter the cost. Unfortunately, unlike himself, Bellatrix did not seem that way inclined but regardless of whether she was willing to admit it to herself, the sense of control and the pleasure of inflicting pain on another thrilled her. Power however was not enough of a temptation for her but he had an idea what her true desire was. Time to move on. 

 

_Bella was stood in the dark parlour, the details of the room were cast in shadow and Cygnus with her two sisters were barely illuminated. He was sat on his favourite armchair, Andromeda was perched on the arm whilst Narcissa stood, leaning over their father and smiling at him adoringly. The dark cast eery shadows across their features as Bellatrix watched them, the two girls were dressed in their nightclothes._

_“Oh look who it is, I was wondering what that stink was.” Andromeda sneered at her and the other two smiled in amusement._

_Narcissa added in her young whiny tone. “Eww, we don’t want you coming over here and ruining everything.”_

_“But…” Her voice trailed off weakly, embarrassed that she didn’t have the strength to stop her voice from quivering. She glanced down at her bare feet, before another remark drew her attention again._

_“Leave us alone smellatrix.” Narcissa stuck her tongue out spitefully. Cygnus was finally provoked and patted his two daughters on the shoulder._

_“Come now the pair of you that’s enough.” His voice didn’t disguise his amusement at their antics and was not enough to scare the girls into stopping. Bellatrix could only watch in disappointment as he failed to defend her._

_“But she’s a, a stain the Black family tree, she shouldn’t even be here.” It was painful to hear Walburga’s words echoed by her sister._

_Cygnus seemed keen to finally put the insults to rest. “That’s enough now Andy. Bella has her uses.” His gazed burned on her for a moment before it turned back to her sister. “Now you two off to bed, it’s late and your mother would be very unhappy to know you were still awake at this hour.”_

_With some reluctance the two girls left their fathers side and started to head upstairs. Bellatrix moved to slowly join them, following behind them. Just as she was about to pass her father, he spoke and reached out an arm to prevent her departure._

_“Come Bella, I want to speak to you for a moment.” His voice was silky smooth, the same voice she recognised from when he was talking with his peers and trying to get his own way. Her sisters paused for a moment to watch but were quickly shooed away. With no room for argument she changed direction and slowly pottered towards him. When she was close enough, he grasped her around the waist and pulled her onto his knee._

_It was a little uncomfortable, she was just getting to the age were she was a little too big to really sit on his lap but it was comforting when he pulled her head to lean on his chest. It soothed away the pain from moments ago. She could feel his chest rumbling as he spoke._

_“Ignore what your sisters were saying, you have your uses Bella.”_

_She didn’t really understand his meaning but didn’t dwell on it. The room was silent, all she could hear was his quick heartbeat in her ear. It almost seemed as if the darkness was moving in on them, heavy and oppressive and she tried to curl herself into him as much as she could._

_All of a sudden she felt his warm hand on her leg. Her blue cotton night dress didn’t keep her too warm so the heat of his hand on her chilled skin almost made her jump._

_“You know I love you don’t you Bellatrix,” his voice sounded much deeper, hoarser than she was used to hearing it. “And if you want to really belong, if you want to stay in this family, you have to show me how much you love me too.”_

_By now his hand had crept up the inside of her thigh, pushing her nightdress up with it. It was a strange and uncomfortable sensation and she tried to still his hand with her own. She didn’t like what was happening but she didn’t want to be disowned._

_Sensing her unease, Cygnus gave her a kiss on her forehead before pushing her hand aside. With a much smoother, faster motion, his hand reached her private parts and rubbed her through her underwear. She tensed in alarm, she knew this was wrong. The darkness was creeping in further and everything seemed to pulse for a moment._

_“No, father please.”_

_He ignored her pleading and his hand moved more vigorously. She tried to squeeze her legs together to stop him but to no avail._

_“I have to get you ready Bella.” His voice sounded totally unfamiliar now, menacing and unbalanced as his other arm clasped her closer against him and he buried his head into her neck. “I have to get you ready because I am going to fuck you little girl. Then you will finally have a place in my family, as my little slut.” His breathing was heavy against her skin as she squirmed frantically to get away from him and everything pulsed again. The last of what dim light there was seemed to be flickering._

_“This is not right.” Her voice was no longer panicked and begging, she spoke with realisation. “This is not right. It’s not happening.”_

And of course she was right. The entire scene vibrated one last time before Lord Voldemort was forcibly ejected from her mind. He reeled back away from her and hissed as a sharp pain radiated down the back of his head for a few seconds. He hadn’t expected such a show of strength, or for her to understand so quickly. 

As he gathered himself he heard her murmuring desperately to herself. She was curled up on the ground, her hands clasped her head as she rocked unsteadily. “It’s not right, it’s not real. It’s not right, it’s not real.”

She sounded utterly demented as she repeated her mantra, her eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the images. He enjoyed her pain, it was all she deserved. Plotting against him, even just _considering_ escape. This was the least of her punishment. 

Bellatrix seemed to come to her senses somewhat, or perhaps she just realised he was no longer rifling through her mind. Her hands fell to reveal a furious expression on her face, it took her some moments to be able to speak, her tone accusing and outraged. 

“You did this. That wasn't real, I know that never happened. My father loved me, he would never do something so vile.” She spat out the last few words before a disgusted shiver ran through her. She seemed on the verge of lifting herself for further confrontation, appalled that he would twist her precious memories of her father in such a way. “How dare you? Make me... make me believe that he would ever do anything like that?”

He wagged his wand mockingly and she froze again, still sprawled on the floor. “Ah ah ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, not unless you want to experience that again. Or worse.” He slowly crept forward, closer to her and smirked when she recoiled back. His threat had the desired effect and her anger quickly dissipated to be replaced by terror. Agonisingly slowly he squatted down before her, drawing his words out achingly for maximal effect. “I will make you _really_ feel it.”

Subconsciously she shook her head, her face paled considerably at the implication. He tapped his wand against his hand as his gaze burned into her. He needed to make sure all idea of escape or of freedom were snuffed out. She belonged to him now.

A cold shiver ran through her as she watched him anxiously, her eyes flitting from his wand back to his steely gaze. “I could obliterate all those precious memories of yours, I could replace them with your worst nightmares. That is only a suggestion of what I am capable of.” 

Her breathing hitched in fear and he was almost sure she had stopped altogether. “Your mind is my playground and I don’t mind just burning it all to the ground.” Bellatrix flinched back as he rose before her again, he could see himself reflected in her eyes. Tall, imperious, shrouded in his blackest robes, he was her living nightmare. “I suggest you remember you belong to me now, for as long as I decide to show you mercy.”

At last, Voldemort turned away from her, to distance himself somewhat before speaking again. His tone was calmer and more forgiving, although he doubted in her state of mind she would really notice the difference. “Consider this a lesson well learned.” He gave a last dismissive wave. “Now, off with you. I’m sure you have some work you could be occupying yourself with elsewhere.”

She didn’t need any further prompting. With ungainly movements she awkwardly clabbered across the room, it seemed to take a tremendous effort for her to even get to her own two feet to support her. He could see her shaking and accounted her loss of grace to that. 

He sighed when he noticed a long tear in the seam of her shirt, just under the arm. It probably happened when she was jerking around, trying to expel him from her mind. He would have to fix that for her eventually, he doubted she would have any idea how to sew it and he couldn’t let his guests see his maid wandering around in rags. 

Without the slightest hesitation she disappeared from the room. He might just have to lay off on the legilimency for a little while, he didn’t want her obstructing him too much and extended, wilful force may just addle her brains. She would definitely be worthless then.

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

The grand hall was quiet, the atmosphere thick. The room was dimly lit, the daylight outside was fast disappearing and the miserable weather made everything gloomier. The wind and rain beat against the long narrow windows and the single candles in the corners of the large hall offered little warmth. 

The Dark Lord was sitting on a grand chair at one end of the room, positioned on a wide dais to elevate himself above his followers. He was leaning forward majestically, his wand held between both hands. He knew he cut a powerful and intimidating image. To his far left stood both Malfoy and Lestrange, despite the masks obscuring their faces, he was sure everyone present had a far idea who they were. 

On his right was Bellatrix. She was frozen on her knees, her hands bound in front of her and dressed only in her simple creme nightgown. He had been reluctant to have her so flimsily dressed in front of everyone but it was vital that she was present and she had had no time to change when he had appeared in her room. Petrificus totalus had her posed in the most appropriate position for him, her face level, long hair thrown back over her shoulders.  He had noticed goosebumps across her skin and imaged if she wasn’t frozen in place she would be shivering. 

The younger Lestrange and Dolohov were stood against the wall on the right, they practically melted into the growing darkness. Voldemort had invited a selected small number of his inner circle to witness, it was always a valuable lesson to show them the penalty for betrayal. 

The reason for this meeting was standing before the Dark Lord. Regulus had not bothered to bow, his posture was defiant but Voldemort could still making out his shaking. In fact, he was surprised the young man had even turned up at all when he had been summoned. Surely he had known what was coming, it would explain his dishevelled and honestly ill appearance. 

When he felt they had been stood in silence for long enough, when the atmosphere was thick and oppressive, he finally spoke. His voice was cold and chilling, it pleased him to see Lucius flinched out of the corner of his eye. 

“Do you know why you have been summoned here today Regulus?”

The young man held his fists clenched by his side and tried to match the Dark Lord’s intense gaze. Every so often his eyes would flit to his elder cousin, bound, paralysed and completely vulnerable without her magic. 

His voice quivered despite his attempts at bravery. “I do not.”

Voldemort pursed his lips, the lack of respect was hard to miss. “You have not been faithful, Regulus. I know you have been plotting behind my back, betraying my confidence, my orders. Even within my own home.” He leaned over to his left and waved a hand at the young woman beside him. “Don’t worry, your cousin has told me everything, I know all about your cowardice and duplicity.”

Regulus frowned in confusion at Bella but she was unable to respond, her eyes merely shimmered in desperation. “Bella told you?” It was obvious he didn’t want to believe it.

A smug smile was given in response. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, Voldemort only wanted to cause suffering and twist apart their close relationship.. He straightened up again on his seat. “Such actions require severe punishment, but don’t worry your cousin will get her share for her involvement.”

Not waiting for a response he smoothly and silently rose to his full height. The younger man took a short step back before steeling himself, he was determined to keep himself dignified.

“Crucio.” He barely whispered it but it was drowned out almost immediately by high pitched yowling scream. As soon as the bright red light hit him, Regulus collapsed to the ground, his neat, expensive robes twisted around his flailing body. The death eaters watching at the side of the room shuffled uncomfortably. 

He stopped for a moment, giving the young man a chance to catch his breath before unleashing the crippling curse on him again. Regulus contorted into torturous positions, his face bright red from not being able to breathe properly, the pain forcing the air from him. He was clawing at himself, trying to find someway of ripping the pain away. 

After a few more seconds Voldemort lowered his wand. The room seemed eerily silent now without the sound of screams, Regulus was trying to suck in as much air as he could. He was surprised how quickly the boy recovered himself, unsteadily climbing up onto all fours. 

“You can torture me all you want you bastard but you won’t get away with this.” He coughed pathetically but his words were solid and contemptuous. 

It wasn’t the first time he had heard that but there was something about the expression on the tortured man’s face, a look of knowing in his eyes. Was it possible that there was some conspiracy he hadn’t been aware of? Highly unlikely but it was enough to give him pause and Regulus spat out. “Kreacher survived what you made him do.”

An icy chill crept slowly down his back… it wasn’t possible. He tried to keep his face neutral, he could not have his followers see even a moment of panic from their Lord. 

“That is not true.”

By now Regulus had managed to rise, he was barely just keeping himself upright on his trembling legs. “It is true. He told me everything, what you made him do. And why.” His voice was growing in strength.

Voldemort felt queasy at the boy’s words, no one was ever supposed to know about his horcrux. It was the only way he had been able to guarantee his immortality, how could he have been so careless? He had always avoided house elves, distrusted the mangy creatures and now as if to prove him right, the Black’s house elf may well play a role in his downfall. 

“Your dishonour and disloyalty is astounding Regulus Black. For this, you must pay with your life.” He slowly raised his wand, he had been planning on killing the boy anyway, his sheer insistence in disobeying and disrespecting the Dark Lord was becoming intolerable but now, he had to do it before the fool revealed anything. 

Sensing his end was near, the younger man shouted, his aching, tortured body now alive with vehemence. “He took me back, I found what you were hiding and I took it. It will be destroyed.”

Panic ran through him like an icy shard before he just about reigned himself in. It was impossible, there was no way that anyone, no matter their skill could ever find his horcrux and survive. As he watched Regulus sneer at him, he noticed the exhaustion. It had been there before he had been cursed but the Dark Lord had merely dismissed it as stress at being caught out. He could not take any chances.

Regulus’s mind was open entirely to him, the younger pureblood had wanted him to see everything. The elf had told him all he had witnessed, including how to reach the horcrux and the extensive protective measures placed at the cave. Regulus, the fool had returned with the sickly elf to the cave and drank the potion himself. When the horcux was revealed and they were almost overrun by his vicious inferni, the elf apparated them to safety. Much to Voldemort’s horror, it seemed as soon as Regulus had been well enough he had met with the Hogwart’s headmaster. Dumbledore had the horcrux, he knew about it and it wouldn’t take him long to figure out there were more. 

Fury wracked through him when he left the boy’s mind, fear clawing at him, clouding his judgement. How had this feeble minded boy brought him so much ruin?

There was a gleam of triumph in Regulus Black’s, even as the curse jetted his way, slicing open his throat. A killing curse would be too kind. Blood poured out, staining his ivory skin and expensive clothes before he collapsed to the ground. It gave the Dark Lord little pleasure. 

He rubbed his hand over his face, begging himself to calm down before he slaughtered the rest of the occupants in the room. Now more than ever, he needed cold logic and reason. That being said, he needed some outlet for the rage coursing through him. 

“All of you leave now.” He waved a dismissive hand, not even glancing at his followers but they didn’t need to be told twice and disappeared with loud pops. He returned to his seat and finally released Bellatrix from her spell. 

The dark haired woman fell forward with a heavy thud, there was a hard sound of skin hitting stone as she hadn’t been expecting to be freed. An anguished cry was released from her lips and disregarding her master, she crawled forward her hands still bound. She did not even seem to notice when her bonds fell away but only scrambled towards her cousins body faster. “Reggie?” It was only half a question as truly she must have known he could not answer.

Before she could reach him, Voldemort vanished the lifeless Regulus away, he couldn’t bear to look at his face another moment. Bellatrix seemed utterly lost for a moment, she just froze where she was and gave the most pathetic, desperate cries. 

“Pull yourself together, you are a maid. Now clean.” He summoned a bucket of water and a large sponge for her and watched.

This had been his intention all along, it was to be her punishment for colluding behind his back, yet he derived very little satisfaction from it. She wept freely as she grabbed the sponge, no longer making those horrible grief-stricken noises, she began to mop up the blood. Her eyes were red raw as tears streamed down her face blotching her skin. Bella only stopped when she realised the blood was soaking through the sponge, she took a moment to inspect her hands, mesmerised and horrified by the bloodstains.  

So she started the sobbing again, her entire body wracking as she cried but she still got the job done. It seemed to take her an age as the blood was just pushed around and around on the floor. Instantly, he could have vanished the stains but that would have been no fun.

Her distressing cries proved the perfect soundtrack to his thoughts as he only half observed her scrubbing on the floor. It was imperative he plan his next move, Dumbledore was sure to soon, if not already, discover how to destroy his horcrux. Although loathe as he was to admit it, it was a terrifying thought. He had no idea what would happen when it was destroyed, would he even feel a part of his soul dying?

More disturbingly, it would not be long before the old headmaster realised that there were more. He may never figure out their locations but Voldemort couldn’t take the risk and leave them where they rested.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 It was starting to get dark already and the air was icy, it had been getting colder everyday in the run up to Christmas. The windows of the houses he had strolled past on his way had been lit up with gaudy, sparkling lights that flickered aimlessly. It seemed the old, destitute neighbourhood went out of its way to capture something of the holiday spirits, somewhat ruined by the numerous boarded up and vandalised houses. At the end of the street was his target, it was hard to believe the building still stood. 

Wool’s orphanage had also been boarded up long ago but he knew every so often groups of junkies squatted there, until one of them inevitably overdosed anyway and they had to scarper. They never came anymore now. For the same reasons the large adverts proclaiming the site to be a quality development site never attracted any offers. Although the dismal area would have been enough to ensure it, the Dark Lord had to be certain it was left alone.

He avoided the large looming building, the prison of his childhood and crept down the side alley to the back. The orphanage had only had a small cement square for the garden, not much for children to play around in but it led out onto a cemetery shared with a small church on the far side. The church was still running but must not have had much of a congregation in recent years, there were only a few newer plots situated nearest the crumbling, old building. Even these had not been cared for in a couple of years by the looks of them. The rest of the cemetery was overgrown and unkempt, some graves had large statues that were weatherbeaten and falling apart. It had a fitting place close to the orphanage, the old institute had provided many residents over its time. 

It was just as he had left it the last time he had visited. The twilight and the absence of noise from any creatures gave it an eery atmosphere but Voldemort paid no attention as he swept through the long grass, his outer cloak becoming. heavy with moisture. At last, he stopped at the second row from the back at a nondescript grave in the middle of others. This particular one had an old angel monument, it features had been lost over time making it more depressing looking as it crouched over and watched the grave below it. 

Like numerous graves in this cemetery, there was no name to identify the deceased. In fact when he had been growing up in the orphanage, there had only been a small stone cross to mark the place his mother had been buried. He himself had installed the statue only a few years ago, it was not a show of respect or done through some sense of connection. She was a guard, a very elaborate piece of magic to watch over this particular grave. 

He had installed several of these sentries across the graveyard, all at particular stages of decay and covered in lichen and moss. He was very proud of the magic he had used, if someone other than himself had managed to break through the wards, these lifeless monuments would spring into action. No one would stand a chance, it had been incredibly dark magic that had allowed him to create his guards. They were not average carved stone, they had been formed from some unwilling sacrifices he had chosen. He highly doubted anyone could survive a tangle with them but if there was anyone that had a chance, a transfiguration master was the best bet. If Dumbledore knew what he was looking for, there was a slim risk he could do it.  A risk Voldemort was not willing to take. 

He paused above his mothers grave, no one knew she was here but he wouldn’t put it past the old man to connect the dots. After all Dumbledore had visited him at the orphanage, back when he was first told about magic, back when he revealed far too much to the interfering do-gooder. 

As a child he had come here when he wanted some peace and quiet. At this time of day it had been far too creepy for the other children to follow him, not that they would want to spend time alone with the sinister young Tom Riddle. It hadn’t been his only experience with death, children at the orphanage were underfed and it was overcrowded, it was inevitable that they would become sick. Occasionally babies where dropped off at the doorstep, strange looking things that often never survived more than a few days. 

That didn’t bother him so much, he was stronger than the other children, he never succumbed to the weak illnesses that wracked their little bodies. He had found out about his mother when he was six years old, Mrs Cole had overindulged yet again and in more graphic detail than was required explained that she had helped deliver him into the world, that his mother had died as she still held him in her arms. Back then he hadn’t even known her name. He would sit in front of her pathetic grave with a heavy sense of betrayal in his stomach. She had brought him into the world, only to abandon him.

He had wished back them that he could have shared his gift, that if she had the strength of his magic she would have survived. How different it all would have been. 

Voldemort gave a huff as he stared at the grave, a soft puff of mist escaped into the cold air. He had been so disgusted when at school he had realised it was his mother that he inherited his magic from, worse still she was from a revered, pure line. Silly woman, if she had even a smidgen of his power, she could have made something of herself. Instead she lowered herself to _loving_ a muggle then abandoning her son at a muggle orphanage. 

He stepped back as he pulled his wand out, the wards allowed him to remove the soil easily enough, this had always been something of a temporary hiding place. The earth sat in a neat mound when he was finished. He levitated her simple wooden coffin up to the other side of the open grave, parts of it had rotted through. It took little effort for the eroded lid to be peeled back. 

Inside his mother had all but decomposed down to her bones, her tissues had shrunk and melted away, to him she did not even really resemble a human being. It was disgusting what death did to a body, the horrible mouldy smell it gave after all these years. It was almost forty-eight years since she had died. When he had first opened her grave he had almost simply vanished her remains. He couldn’t do it though, it was the reason he had chosen this location. It was a reminder, in case he ever doubted, why he needed his horcruxes, what would happen to him if he ever let death win. 

With some relief he immediately spotted the diary held underneath her bony hand. Although the place did not appear disturbed, it was still a small comfort that there had been no interference. He summoned it to himself, the wards recognising his magic and bending to his will. Distractedly, he return her grave to its former state, it was reassuring to hold the diary in his hands once again. He had great plans for it when he had created it but it was essential that he wait for the most opportune moment to unleash its power. 

Now was not that time but he couldn’t leave it where it had been. Not after Regulus Black’s betrayal. It wouldn’t be long before Dumbledore started searching and this place was too connected to his past. The others were safe enough for now. The cup was stored deep in the depths of Gringott’s, in the ancestral Malfoy vault, it was essentially impenetrable. The ring was at the Gaunt’s, he highly doubted anyone could link them but he would take further precautions to protect it. 

Without another glance at his mothers grave he left the graveyard, it was dark now. The stars were twinkling above him but he didn't notice, it was sure to be frosty in the morning. 

As soon as he had crossed the boundary of the cemetery he silently apparated away. Instantaneously he appeared on the front step of his manor and stepped inside, relieved to finally return to the warmth. He could hear the rhythmic sound of brushing but didn’t pay it much attention.

He headed up to his own quarters only slowing for a moment to look in the great hall for the source of the noise. Bella was crouched on the floor again, using a brush to scrub at the floor where her cousin had been killed. She was staring off at the wall, a vacant expression in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if she just found the chore soothing; after she had completed the majority of her others jobs, she often found her way back to the same spot. 

Since Regulus had been killed, she had become even more introverted, she did everything possible to avoid him within the manor and had a bizarre preoccupation with cleaning the stone floor in the hall. Perhaps she was merely starting to unravel. 

He moved on at any rate, his first priority was for his horcrux and as he didn’t see any immediate solution to her odd, ritualistic behaviour, it would be ignored for now. Upon entering his own quarters, he searched for the best place to hide his precious cargo. He didn’t want it to be too well hidden, so that it would appear suspicious if someone came across it. 

The scrappy looking diary itself would hardly draw unwanted attention. With decisive movements he crouched before his large bookshelf and slid the thin black diary between two old, boring books. The large spines practically engulfed the small book. Voldemort was not concerned about placing any wards on it, this particular horcrux was very adept at protecting itself and heavy protective magic may in fact lead anyone looking for it straight to it. 

 

 

______________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Lucius Malfoy stepped neatly out of the fireplace into the parlour and brushed down his expensive royal blue robes. Voldemort watched the man in amusement, so concerned about his ridiculous appearance, although it did serve them both well. As soon as the blond man decided he was presentable, he bowed to the Dark Lord.

“My Lord.”

Voldemort was stood waiting for him. “Lucius, have a seat.” He waved to the armchair between them. 

Malfoy slowly sat down, keeping an eye on his Lord. It was always best to expect trouble when summoned, at least he would be prepared to try and defend any wrongdoing. 

“Do you remember the golden cup I gave you last year?”  

Lucius frowned for a moment as he thought about the question, it was not what he had been expecting. Finally it dawned on him and he nodded. “Yes, my Lord. You asked me to store it in the family vault?”

That was a good start. “Yes, I trust you did as I asked?” 

“Of course my Lord. And I cast all the protective spells you ordered me to do.”

Voldemort casually walked around the armchair to stand on the other side of Malfoy. “I am sure you would have told me if there had been any security breaches on your account?”

The blond man gave a small chuckle at the ridiculous question. “My family vault is in the deepest depths of Gringotts with all of the goblin security possible. No one has ever stolen from the bank, not even from the least secure vaults. No one would dare try.”

He ignored the other man’s confident disbelief. “So as far as you are aware, it is safe.” He was inclined to agree with everything Lucius was saying, there was a reason he had wanted to store a horcux at the bank. Of all them, he was sure the cup was the safest but it would do no harm to check. 

Voldemort could sense Malfoy’s curiosity as he was thinking, the pureblood wanted to ask about the cup, why it was so important to protect. If he had any sense, he would keep his questions to himself.

His guest cleared his throat to gain his Lord’s attention before swishing his ridiculously primped hair over his shoulder. “My Lord, Narcissa and I were wondering if, well we weren’t sure but we wanted to invite you to come to our manor for yuletide celebrations. We are the hosts of this years Christmas ball and it would be a great honour to have you as our guest.”

Voldemort frowned briefly as he considered the proposition. He knew the Malfoy’s propensity for self-serving, having the Dark Lord attend their ball would send a message to all the purebloods. They wanted his favour and like all Malfoy’s could only think of using wealth and flattery. Well, it seemed to work for them.

“I will join you and your wife.” He strode over to the other empty armchair, smirking as he noticed Lucius clasping his cane nervously. 

“We have a family dinner before the ball which you are welcome to join. Narcissa will have the house elves make up rooms for you, we have a few other guests as well but of course you will be our most revered.”

He held up a hand to stop the younger man. “If I am to stay, I am sure you remember I will not tolerate elves in my company.”

This was especially true now, not after the fiasco with the Black family elf Kreacher. He had still not been able to dispose of the foolish thing. 

Lucius frowned, he was aware of this condition but could hardly fathom life without house elves to do his every bidding. “My Lord, I could agree to no elves in your quarters, not in your company but it would be impossible to host the ball without them. We do not have human help, we find elves to be much more obedient.”

It seemed to Voldemort the solution was simple, elves at the ball weren’t such an issue and he had someone already available to serve him, far more obedient than an elf. 

“Perhaps I can make a suggestion.” Should he really do this, it was one thing having her wait on him in his own home, totally different to take her out? The risks of her escaping alone, never mind the ideas people may get, her included, if he were to take her anywhere else. Although perhaps it would be enough to stop her going stir crazy, her behaviour the last few days had been odd to say the least. “Bellatrix has certainly shown her value here, she could carry on her tasks during my stay. Of course she would be unable to do much at the ball, on her own and without magic she would be useless but that is unavoidable.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline at the proposition but after a moment the expression was replaced with a cruel grin. The spiteful man would take any opportunity to mock the poor woman. “I suppose we could work with that.”

The younger man sat there smugly for another few moments, seemingly unaware that the Dark Lord was staring at him. “I think that is all Lucius.” 

His stern voice was enough to stir the man and he anxiously stood, aware he was overstaying his welcome. “I will inform my wife of your attendance my Lord.” 

Voldemort replied offhandedly as the younger proud man stepped back to the fireplace. “Indeed.” 

He had lost interest now as his thoughts returned to his horcruxes, he barely acknowledged Malfoy disappearing. The ring was causing him some concern. Whilst he knew it was unlikely that anyone could ever link him as a Gaunt, he knew that there were a few people that knew his name, including Dumbledore. It wasn’t a massive stretch to imagine him investigating the culprit responsible for the Riddle’s murders. 

However the defensive magic around his ring was extensive, he knew it was capable of protecting itself so perhaps his best plan of action would be create more. He had always planned to make seven, a sacred number and with the loss of Slytherin’s locket, he now only had three. 

The Dark Lord already knew what his next horcrux would be, a relic from the fourth Hogwart’s creator, Ravenclaw’s diadem. It had been lost for centuries but thanks to a lonely ghost he knew it was located out in an Albanian forest. He had spent a few years in Albanian, learning and searching. Back then his main prerogative had been to learn the darkest of Eastern European magic but he also listened to the local tales and hunted for his prize. 

Now, back in Britain he was sure he could pinpoint it to just two locations. There had been no urgency before, particularly with the almost devastating effects from creating the last horcrux had had on him, he had been hoping to leave a longer period of time before making a new one. Well, he would at least wait until the new year, leave a little time for the weather to clear. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Voldemort sat at the dining table, yesterday’s Daily Prophet splayed out before him. The table was otherwise empty but he could hear Bellatrix rattling around in the kitchen. It was Christmas day although there was nothing in the room that would give the fact away. No decorations, no cards, no tree. He wasn’t entirely sure if Bella even knew what day it was, she might have asked for some decorations otherwise in an attempt to please him. 

He was not bothered about Christmas, it had always been a rather disappointing holiday, something that reinforced the differences between himself and others. He glanced up as Bellatrix clambered into the room carrying a large tray, with great care she placed everything in front of him ensuring to order it as he preferred. Taking the opportunity to watch her as she made sure she had brought everything, he noticed she was not looking too well. 

She had lost more weight, which wasn't entirely surprising considering the small portions of food he allowed her. He was beginning to suspect she was eating even less than that, her cheeks were hollowing out and her eyes were starting to look sunken. Even her hair was lank looking, it seemed as though she had just thrown it up, he dreaded to think how long it had been since she had bothered to brush it. All of this gave her a haunted appearance and he did not like it at all. Yes, he wanted to punish her, she deserved to be mistreated but she still needed to maintain a basic level of health. 

The Dark Lord knew what had caused these drastic changes, she had been different ever since her cousins death. It was her penalty for trying to escape but he was disappointed at how severely she had been effected. It was not as much fun to terrorise someone so weak. Only yesterday had he brought another guest, a slim blonde woman whom he had spent a few hours torturing before killing, all in the presence of his servant. She was certainly disturbed by the scene, she had not appreciated that he had given the muggle polyjuice potion and taunted Bellatrix with the vision of herself being killed at his hand but he still felt it did not have the same visceral impact it should have. 

She gave a half-hearted bow of her head before trying to slip out of the room unnoticed. His voice was calm but cool as he called her back. 

“Bella.” 

Almost reluctantly she swivelled around to face him again, her eyes darted to the spread before him trying to determine if something had been forgotten. “Yes master?”

“Do you know what day it is today?” 

She was startled by the question and for the first time in an age actually looked at him. It was clear she was expecting some kind of trickery but he found it entertaining to realise she truly had no idea what the date was. Perplexed, she shook her head nervously, she had been living for weeks in a daze. “No master, I don’t, I’m sorry.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise when he gave a brief chortle. “My, my, I thought you were a clever girl. It is the twenty-fifth of December.”

He barely heard her whisper to herself. “Christmas.” He didn’t need to peer into her mind to realise she was worried about not marking the day as special for him, she had prepared the same food as usual and there were no decorations.

Voldemort interrupted her silent musings. “I am not usually one for celebrating such a pointless occasion.” He stood then and noticed she took the smallest of steps back away from him. “Then I thought to myself about all the good work you have been doing for me.” 

He moved closer to her and he could see she was fighting every natural impulse to shrink back away from him but she knew from experience it would only enrage him. “There have been times when you have let things slip and I have been forced to reprimand you but overall you are managing well. Considering you have no wand, I expected you to be a huge disappointment.”

Her breathing quickened in reaction to his words and approach. “Your master is merciful. Today I have decided a reward is in order, in fact I have two for you.”

This time she did flinch as he moved but he was merely reaching back towards the table. He pulled out a small paper brown bag, half concealed under his newspaper. Despite it being a gift, there was no way he would stoop to wrapping the thing, that would give it too much significance. It would look as if he cared. 

Voldemort held the paper bag out to her, it was not far for her to reach at their close distance but she made no move for a moment. She peered up at him questioningly for a beat, before deciding there was no point in resisting, even if it was a trick he would still force her to play along. 

Slowly the dark haired woman reached for whatever was in the folded over paper bag. With hesitance she simply held it for a second, she was reluctant to find out what it was he deemed to be a reward for her. 

He nodded coldly in encouragement as he observed her. It irked him to notice how loosely her clothes hung from  her frame and how her collar bones seemed to jut out, perhaps what he should have got her was some new clothes. She no longer just appeared delicate, she looked frail. 

Her hands were trembling as she unfolded the bag and pulled out the contents. Her surprise was palpable when it was revealed to be only a small black leather bound notebook with a pencil attached to it. Frowning she rapidly skimmed the pages but it was blank. 

He was confused by the sudden nervousness that gnawed at him, it could not be possible that he actually cared what she thought of the gift. She was his slave for Merlin’s sake. Pushing past the feeling he tried to explain. “It is to help keep you sane. You are almost always busy but I know occasionally there are times when you have little to do, this,” he pointed the book grasped limply in her hold. “Will keep you occupied. Never think that I am wholly unfair.”

Bella’s eyes were wide in disbelief. “Thank you master.” Her voice was low and astonished, he was sure that she actually was grateful. 

The Dark Lord took another step closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. He could feel her tense and uncomfortable beneath his hold and he realised how strange it felt to touch her, as if she was suddenly more real. “That is not the only thing. I have been invited to the Malfoy’s for their annual yuletide festivities and you are to join me. I will not tolerate their disgusting elves to be near me so you are to carry out your tasks at their manor during my stay. Obviously you will be there to serve me, I do not expect you to be cleaning up after them.”

Her expression had turned to confusion, he shook her gently to get her to understand his implication faster. “You will have a chance to see your sister,” he patted her on one of her cheeks patronisingly. “Don’t say I don’t spoil you little girl.” Before she had a chance to be anything but startled, his hand slipped behind her neck to grasp into her dark tresses. “If you betray my trust, if you do not appreciate my kind gift and make any sort of attempt to escape I will cut off all your beautiful hair and I will cut out your tongue. You don’t need either to serve me.”

Bellatrix cringed when he released her but gave no sound to indicate she had been hurt. “Be ready to leave at midday.” He returned to his place at the table, breaking his hold over her. She clasped the book closely to her and murmured her thanks again before leaving unimpeded this time. 

Already he was doubting whether it had been a good idea. It had been a simple enough gesture and truthfully he did just want to prevent her from losing her marbles, isolated in his manor. She would be useless without her wits and since Regulus had died, she was fading before his eyes. All it meant was he did not want the hassle of finding and training a new housemaid now he got used to having one.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

The Dark Lord confidently approached the manor doors before him, wide and ancient things, engraved with faces of old. The walk up to Malfoy manor was a long one, especially on such a cold day. The proud birds often seen parading around the grounds were missing, likely the weather was too frigid for them. Patches of white snow could be seen but not enough to blanket the ground, as if it was just a small enough token for Christmas day. 

He could hear Bellatrix Black huffing behind him as she lugged a small suitcase as well. He glanced back at her to check her progress just in time to see her stumble slightly on the gravel path. She was wrapped in a thick black cloak, she wasn’t aware it was an old one of his own, shrunken down to fit her slight frame. She had few other items of clothing but certainly nothing heavy enough to be outside in, not in this weather anyway. 

The hood had been pulled up and she had managed to use one of her black cardigans to wrap around her neck as a makeshift scarf which effectively obscured the bottom half of her face. He knew she was trying to hide which was really quite ridiculous. He could feel her anxiety build with every step closer they got to the manor but paid no attention. 

When he had first apparated them outside the gates, the dark haired woman had been stunned for a few moments. Forgetting where they were she simply absorbed the sights and sounds around her, shivered at the frigid air touching her skin. It was as if she never thought she would have a chance to step outside again. He caught her eye for a brief moment and he could see them shimmering in gratitude, that was until she looked to the manor before them and remembered where they were. He had promptly turned on his heel and began his trek.

The door swung open wide as he got closer and he crossed the threshold into the hall, pleased that there was no house elf there to greet him. The entrance hall was enormous, straight before him was a grand staircase leading to the floor above. The floor was all marble which caused every noise to echo, adding to the sense of vastness. 

Voldemort began to divest himself of his heavy cloak and passed it to Bellatrix as she finally followed him in. The door closed solemnly behind them and he knew one of the hosts would be rushing through the manor to greet him, as they should be. 

“Hang this up.” He spoke thoughtlessly and barely acknowledged as she took his cloak off him without question. She neatly hung it on the cloak stand in the corner before turning her attention back to the suitcase. “Take yours off too, stick it there and you can gather them when we leave.”

Awkwardly she obeyed him but he no longer watched her as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from his left. Lucius appeared, regally dressed in light blue robes with some sort of silver pattern on them. It was clearly specially chosen for the day. He gave a small bow of his head to his Lord, the pompous cane held loosely in his right hand. 

“Welcome my Lord, I am so honoured to have you here.” The blond man gave a distasteful look towards Bellatrix who was determinedly ignoring him. “Please come through to the parlour.”

His voice turned from sickly polite to disdainful immediately as he addressed the dark haired woman. “Stay here and an elf will show you to the rooms. Yours is by the kitchens with the house elves so you will know where everything is.”

Voldemort frowned at this suggestion. “No. She will be placed near my quarters. She is after all present to serve me, how is she to do that if she is hidden so far away? She cannot use magic to travel through your manor.”

Lucius was not at all happy with this news, he didn't not want some lowly half-blood servant staying in one of his guest rooms but he would never argue with the Dark Lord on the matter. He had more sense than that. “As you wish my Lord. The elf will show her what she needs to know.”

The host did not deign to talk to her again and started to walk towards the parlour with his guest. He had to stop when he realised that Voldemort was not following. “Pack everything away and check the room. When you have been shown all you need, join us in the parlour, I may have some need for you.”

She nodded in agreement, her dark curls bouncing with movement as she whispered. “Yes, master.”

Leaving her, they made themselves comfortable in the parlour. A huge, opulently decorated tree was occupying one corner of the room and Voldemort noticed there were still a few wrapped presents beneath it. 

“I am honoured that you have been able to join us.” Lucius was keen to have the Dark Lord's full attention but the older man was bored with his simpering words. “It is regretful my wife is not here at present. She was hoping to be back before your arrival but has had to visit with her family. They are deep in mourning at the death of Regulus.”

That caught Voldemort’s attention. “What do they say?”

The blond man leant back into his armchair to make himself more comfortable, he always loved sharing news, good or bad. “They are heartbroken at the loss of their son, as his elder brother was disowned, Regulus was their heir. He was to carry on the name of the Black’s as Narcissa has become a Malfoy. I hear that Walburga is taking the loss particularly hard but is comforted by the news that he died bravely, defending the Dark Lord and fighting for his cause.”

“So they believed what Lestrange told them?”

“Yes my Lord.” He paused to think for a moment before continuing. “I think Orion believes it but is not as pleased as Walburga about his son’s sacrifice. I suspect Druella has a fairer idea of the truth than his parents but is smart enough to keep her concerns to herself. It has unified them against the ministry and the aurors, believing that they played a part in his death.”

Voldemort gave a low grumble. Druella was much more intelligent than the average pure-blood woman, he had seen the signs of her keen observations during his brief meetings with her husband. Cygnus had always been a clever man but was ruled too much by comfort and emotions. His wife had a much more calculating manner about her, it was a shame she was of little use to him. Curious, he questioned his follower. “And Narcissa? What is her understanding?”

He noticed Malfoy’s Adam’s apple fluttering in nervousness for a moment before he answered. “Narcissa has been told the same tale as the rest of them. She believes it and is certainly proud of his martyrdom.” 

The lightest amount of legilimency, showed this to be true, at least in Malfoy’s mind. The younger man mentioned nothing of her worry for her husbands life and her request that he distance himself from the risk of being murdered. Foolish woman, her husband spent most of his time in ministry offices, as long as he is useful he would be kept alive. He debated giving her a taste of her own punishment but he did not want to waste the time, he had more important concerns. 

Lucius shook his head uncomfortably but the Dark Lord knew he hadn’t realise his mind had been invaded. He was reasonable at occlumency but usually only when he felt he had something important to hide and he never stood a chance against the older man. 

“The yuletide ball is masquerade, it is always a popular theme and we felt it was the best way for you to attend. All your followers would be aware of your attendance. There was no other way I could invite prominent members of the ministry without alarming them with your company. Not all of them side with us and it may be too heavy handed to have you convert them this way. It also rids me of suspicion of being a Death Eater if a few members of the noble light purebloods are invited.” 

The eloquence the younger man was known for became somewhat lost in his ramblings as he became unnerved by the silence from his master about his decisions. 

“I was not aware that a guest of honour was customarily hidden away from others in attendance but I suppose I cannot fault your logic. I am impressed as much as I am disgusted my your self-serving behaviour. As long as you always remember who you have vowed to serve first.”

The thinly veiled threat lingered in the air between them before Bellatrix finally rejoined them. She was carrying a small circular tray with two glasses and a wine bottle, no doubt something very old and expensive and essentially wasted on the Dark Lord. 

Lucius flourished his hand towards her. “Ah my Lord, would you care for a glass. Today is after all a special occasion.”

He gave a sharp nod and watched Bella as she served. She would know he would prefer a very small measure, he resisted the urge to smirk when he saw the much more generous helping she gave their host. 

Just as the glass was handed to Lucius, the echoing of heels on the marble floor could be heard. All three of them turned to the door in time to see Narcissa appear in the doorway. 

She had the same shiny blonde hair as her husband but hers was swept up in an elegant chignon. Everything about her, from her elegant poise, to the luxurious silken robes and disdainful expression screamed pure-blood princess. She was taller than her half-sister, willowy and angular. Even though she was only pushing twenty, she held herself like a much older and experienced woman, easily projecting confidence that belied her years. 

He had only met her a few times but he knew her well, from her husband and sister. Despite her demure demeanour, he knew she was deeply ambitious, perhaps even more so than her husband. Although she is pleased that Lucius is affiliated with the Dark Lord and stands to gain, he knows she would be happy to step away as soon as it was no longer politically beneficial to them. Voldemort had wondered before how a woman so determined could be happy living off her husbands success rather than her own. It was a shame the woman was too spoilt and a little cowardly or she may have made an excellent death eater. 

With little hesitation the woman herself stepped into the room and gave a small curtsy to him. She was dressed in a trim black dress, obviously a sign of her mourning her family. 

“My Lord, I apologise that I was not here for your arrival. I trust my husband has made you comfortable, it is a great honour…” She trailed off as her attention focused on the other woman in the room. Her eyebrows burrowed in confusion as her eyes flitted between himself and Bellatrix, it was amusing watching her try to determine the connection between the two of them. 

“Bellatrix?” Her high pitched question seemed to be directed more at him. She almost took a step towards Bella before thinking better of it and straightening up, her face changing to a neutral mask. The dark haired woman herself was holding the tray up to herself defensively, creating a barrier between them. Her cheeks had flushed red and she was staring at some point on the floor. He knew this was the moment she had been dreading since being told of their visit. 

Voldemort gestured towards Bellatrix in explanation. “I see you have met my help. I forgot the two of you were related.” Forgot — as if he would ever forget but it was worth the lie for the entertainment. 

Narcissa’s face became stony as he watched her sister, her estranged sister in fact, standing in her home. Her voice was hard and detached as she spoke to her, Bella’s raised her head to match her steely gaze. “I was unaware you were also in the service of the Dark Lord.”

Lucius gave an awkward barking laugh. “That might be putting it too generously.”

A sharp glance from Voldemort silenced him. “Your sister is here to be at my service whilst I am staying in your home.”

Despite her attempts at cool indifference, the blonde woman couldn't disguise her irritation. “With the utmost respect my Lord, I would prefer if you did not talk about us as if we were sisters. At best she is my half-sister but as she was disowned by the family and cut off, she is not even fit for the name Black. It is a source of embarrassment to have her talked about as if she were a close relation.”

He could almost admire her courage, many of his most brutal death eaters would be afraid to speak so frankly to him but perhaps being in her own home gave her a confident edge. Either that or it was a very sore point for her. 

Bellatrix for her part, could no longer act the victim before them. After the eery, cold silence he had endured from her since her cousins death, it was a shock to witness such a dramatic outburst. It reminded him why he had seen potential in her in the first place. “Fuck you Narcissa. As if I’m the embarrassment here? Walking around like you’ve got a broom up your arse, too good for anyone else. Living a life of comfort, paid for by the blood of others. What the hell happened to you?”

Narcissa looked utterly flabbergasted at the outburst, it had obviously been a long time since someone had talked to her with such disrespect. Her husband, reacting much faster, whacked Bellatrix on the back of the leg with his cane and pulling out his wand, levelled it at her face when she crumpled to the ground next to him. 

“Do not dare to speak to my wife like that.” His words were vitriolic as he stared down his wand at the woman. As amusing as it was Voldemort knew it was time to intervene. 

“That’s enough Lucius.” Still glaring at the dark haired woman, his follower slowly lowered his wand. “Bellatrix, apologise.”

She raised her head to him and spoke with mock sincerity. “I’m sorry master.” 

She didn’t even bother apologising to their hosts and they all knew she had not one bit of remorse but he let it pass… for now. 

“Go down to the kitchens. I think it would be best if you familiarised yourself, you will after all be serving dinner.” 

Bellatrix followed his order and made her way out of the room, her body tensed as she walked past her sister. He swore he heard the blonde woman hiss something, he was half convinced they would come to physical blows but the moment passed and Bella disappeared. 

Malfoy was still furious but he patted the space on the sofa next to himself to get his wife moving. Voldemort changed the topic, he knew they weren’t pleased at the lousy apology that had not even been addressed to them

“Will any of the Greengrass’s be present tonight?”

Lucius looked to his wife expectantly. “I know that Walt Greengrass is keen to attend as his betrothed will be there. Otherwise they have been unwilling to confirm their presence although I expect his uncle, Laslo will likely turn up at some point during the night, probably drunk and his sister has promised she will come if her morning sickness has settled although she is now a Goyle.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he remembered why he did not like dealing with wives. “So Walt may attend. Is there anyway of persuading his parents to come. We need to get closer to Acteon.”

Malfoy frowned in concentration. “They are notoriously standoffish, they avoid politics and anything at all polarising, its why we haven’t even had a chance to attempt to recruit them.”

“But their daughter is married to a Goyle?”

Narcissa nodded primly, gossiping about pure-blood families was enough to help her forget the earlier slight against her. “Yes my Lord. I believe she has two cousins that married as well, Alexa married into a European family Bergendoff - they might be German. The other married the elder Weasley boy so I wouldn’t count on support from them.”

“Hmm. We need to get some leverage with them, it would be a huge boost politically but as heavy investors in Gringott’s it would help us win over the goblins as well.”

Narcissa cringed at the thought of the beasts. “Goblins?”

He threw a sharp look her way, a reminder that he may be a guest but he was still her superior. “Goblin’s hold the wealth of the wizarding world and are powerful in their own right, being denied wands has upset them. That is something we can exploit to get them on our side.”

Lucius seemed troubled by the thought. “You wouldn’t give them wands though?”

“I haven’t decided.”

The purebloods always had a problem with his use of magical creatures, they feared and despised them more than mudbloods, and barely less than muggles. Voldemort had no such qualms with using them to further his goals. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Voldemort smoothed down his dress robes, the darkest black with a stylish trim, before he picked up his mask. It had been left in his room for him by his hosts and was a simple black mask with specks of glitter to make it somewhat festive. Putting it back down he walked across the room to open the door to the adjoining room. He had been given a massive suite, obviously reserved for the most prominent guests to the Malfoy family home. 

The large four poster bed was the giant centrepiece to the room, an elegant dark wood engraved with an array of magical creatures. The rest of the furniture was as old and ornate but he barely noticed it. Voldemort respected wealth and everything that came with it but he found nothing appealing about such decadence. 

There were a couple of doors leading from the room, one to a huge luxurious bathroom, the other to his own sitting room, useful if he had his own guests he wanted to see. This sitting room however was not private as the elves had created a small cot for his servant to sleep on. 

Looking through the door he spotted Bellatrix sitting on the edge of the bed, she was pulling out the neatly folded work clothes. She had only got a couple of spare outfits but it was clear she put a lot of effort into keeping them clean and respectable to wear. 

He noticed a clothes bag hung up on the back of the door leading out to the hallway. She was distracted from her musings when she noticed his presence and stood promptly at attention. 

“Master.” It was not said as a question, only an acknowledgement. 

He pointed to the clothes bag on the door. “Have you had a look at that?”

Frowning, she glanced at it nervously. “No master, would you like me to open it for you?”

He nodded and watched as she grabbed the bag, trying to not wrinkle whatever was inside as she jerkily pulled it open. Bella peeked up at him in confusion when a soft black dress was revealed.

“You will be joining me for part of the evening. As I am to be disguised for those who are not followers, I thought it would be prudent to have you dressed as a guest. Having my personal servant trawling after me would only attract unwanted attention.”

She petted the material in disbelief, it was starting to feel uncomfortable watching her appreciation. “Get dressed, put your hair back as well, it is rather distinctive.”

He returned to his own room to allow her to change. When he had asked Narcissa for a dress she had nearly spit blood, only that he was the Dark Lord did she obey his request. She had certainly had her revenge at dinner, the pair of them had taken every opportunity to aim slights at his servant. Voldemort almost admired her ability to ignore the insults.

Already regretting agreeing to attend the ball, he was wondering if he should just leave now while he had the chance when he returned next door. 

Despite wearing just a plain black dress and nothing in the way of makeup, he had to admit she was beautiful. There was nothing fancy about the dress but it was well fitted and even with all the weight she had inevitably lost she was still stunning, the stark black matching her hair and making her pale skin luminous. She had somehow pulled her hair off her shoulders but it seemed very determined to fall out. Awkwardly she held a hand around her wrist in front of her. 

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he handed her a matching plain black mask and spoke coldly. “Put this on, it’s time to go down.”

He swept from the room and down the hall, the music from the grand hall below filtering up along with chattering voices. Bellatrix was trailing behind him as they quickly descended down the wide stairs. There were house elves at the open double doors welcoming guests and taking cloaks, a few people watched them curiously joining the crowd. 

The grand hall was amazing, Narcissa had gone over the top with the decorations. Snow flakes fell from the ceiling but never landed, trees with glittering ornaments and hyperactive fairies flitting around them, white and blue flowers and candles everywhere. Soft music played from the small orchestra on the opposite side of the room, no doubt from a famous European symphony. 

A few couples were already on the dance floor but for the most part guests were congregated around the bar or chatting with friends. Watching the guests he was glad he had a mask on, he always appreciated the benefits of anonymity. His eyes quickly found someone familiar, Severus Snape was skulking around a bit aways from the bar on his own, a glass of something held in his hands. Even with the thin black mask he was clearly recognisable, his lank hair and utilitarian robes, it was obvious he had not bothered to make much effort for the event. 

Snape gave a familiar nod as he noticed Voldemort’s approach. “My Lord.” It was murmured quietly enough that the other guests wouldn’t hear. 

“Severus, it is good to see you.” The Dark Lord turned to Bellatrix who was hovering at his side ill at ease. It surprised him that she was so uncomfortable, such balls should have been something she was used to, the Black’s used to host all the time in their heyday. “Drinks. Get one for yourself too so you don’t look out of place.”

She melted into the crowd immediately. Even with the mask he could register Snape’s surprise. “Was that Bella?”

“Yes, it seems she has her uses and I thought it would be nice if she was reunited with family over the holidays.” 

The professor snorted at the remark. “Oh I’m sure Narcissa was overjoyed to see her again.”

Voldemort made sure there was no one close listening but everyone was too engrossed in the celebrations to pay them much attention. “I haven’t seen you in a while, I was wondering if you had any news.”

“I’m afraid very little my Lord. I have barely seen Dumbledore lately, he seems to be completely absorbed in something else. What ever it is, he hasn’t told anyone as I’m aware.  Other than that, very little that hasn’t been in the public domain. Crouch trying to persuade the public that aurors must start using unforgivable curses and the curfew now placed on Hogsmeade, as well as a few other magical towns.”

Bellatrix appeared suddenly at their side, a tumbler of fire whiskey in one hand, a wine glass in the other. She offered them both up but he snatched the whiskey. 

“You have no idea why Dumbledore is acting that way?”

Snape looked at Bella questioningly but when the Dark Lord did not seem to mind talking openly in front of her, he replied. “No, I heard he received a mysterious guest last week, no one knows their identity except the headmaster. Appeared in the middle of the night, shrouded in darkness so says the caretaker.”

Although he knew what Regulus revealed to be true, it was still a blow to have it practically confirmed by someone else. “Have you been in his office since then, have you seen any unusual or new objects sitting about?”

“Honestly I have no idea what half the things in his office are, I’m not entirely sure if I would know if something was new unless perhaps it was sitting out on his desk.” Almost too casually he continued. “Maybe if you gave me some idea of what it is you are looking for I might be able to keep an eye out?”

Voldemort simply brushed him off. “I’m sure you would recognise their significance if you were to come across them.”

The music changed to a waltz and he noticed much more people up dancing. The Malfoy’s were on the other side of the hall, Narcissa was radiant in a long white gold shimmering dress, every inch the proud wife of a noble house. Lucius was wearing matching coloured robes, his hair down long and flowing. They were conversing with the ministry’s undersecretary and Barty Crouch, father and son. The younger was smirking around him undoubtedly finding his Lord’s and his fathers attendance at the same party very humorous. 

Scanning the rest of the crowd it was difficult to spot his various targets for the evening with the elaborate costumes some were wearing so he made his way over to Lucius. As he strode across the floor even those who didn’t know him stepped quickly out of his way. They all sensed power whether they realised it or not. 

Barty Jr was fidgeting distractedly beside his father who it seemed was boring everyone around him with his sanctimonious sermon. He beamed when he spotted Voldemort approaching. 

“Ah, my… friend.” He tried his best to cover his blunder. “Sorry, umm.” 

If Voldemort hadn’t known better he would have questioned whether the boy was in fact a pure-blood, his manner left a lot to be desired. 

Crouch Sr had noticed him by now and held out his hand. “Are you a friend of Barty’s then? I don’t think I know you but then I don’t know any of the lads friends these days.”

Lucius was stock still beside him frozen in fear, Narcissa had vanished elsewhere to chat with her own friends and the Undersecretary was now watching in curiosity. 

“I suppose you could call me a friend yes.” Voldemort shook the proffered hand with a firm grip, the situation was not ideal but he would never back down, not to the likes of him. “You are Barty Crouch Sr, a very popular man at the moment it seems. A hero if half of what the Daily Prophet reports is true.”

The other man seemed unnerved by the strangers tone. “I would hardly call myself a hero, I just do my job. Something that keeps me busier than ever with all the dark stuff going on at the moment.” He looked Voldemort up and down for a moment. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

His son rushed to fill him in. “Father, this is uh, Lawrence, he is a cousin of Narcissa’s, one of the Rosier’s.” 

“Oh, I am surprised we have not met before. This must be your wife?” 

As if the encounter couldn’t get any more awkward, Crouch held his hand out to Bellatrix who had been forgotten, lingering beside her master like a shadow. Red rose up in her cheeks just beneath her mask and she almost shrunk back, her wine glass clutched to her with barely a sip taken.Voldemort knew it wasn’t because she was shy but rather she feared his reaction at the offensive suggestion and was horrified herself at the very thought. Trying to arouse as little suspicion as possible he agreed, his two death eaters looked astounded but he knew they would understand his reasons. 

“Yes, this is.” In what he felt was the most uncomfortable manoeuvre in his life he tried to casually place a hand on her shoulder but dropped it as soon as it was acceptable. “It was nice meeting you but I’m afraid I was just hoping to have a quick word with our gracious host. Pardon me.”

Without another word he led Lucius away, Bella scarpering after them. “Are any of the Greengrass’s here? I can’t tell with all the ridiculous masks.”

Lucius tried to glance over the heads of all his guests before pointing a couple out near the bar. “That’s Goyle and his wife, she was a Greengrass. I can’t see any others, Walt should definitely be here though. He might have slipped out for some air.”

He nodded as he observed his next target for the night. “Alright.”

Voldemort headed off towards the bar leaving Malfoy to entertain his guests and network. Stopping abruptly, he felt Bellatrix nearly bump into him. “Get some cigars, the Malfoy’s are bound to have something decent lying around. Don’t return to me until I am finished talking to the Goyle’s.”

“Yes master.” Skittishly she headed off again into the swarm and he continued his course. 

The Dark Lord already had a Goyle in his ranks, Gregory, a rather crude thuggish man. He was a loyal death eater but had pleaded with Voldemort to allow his younger brother to finish at Hogwart’s and marry his betrothed before he was recruited. The time had finally come.

Edwin Goyle was slighter than his brother but still possessed a brawny physique. His face was covered with smatters of freckles and it was obvious he had already overindulged on firewhiskey. His wife was almost as tall as he was, her honey hair was left down, straight and long, adding to her sense of height. She held only pumpkin juice in her hand, a small bump beneath her blue dress the obvious reason. 

“I would like a word.” 

The pair of them stared for a moment, their mouths gaping. Goyle peered around briefly to ensure there was no one in earshot before speaking. 

“My Lord, I had heard you might be attending but I hadn’t believed it. It is an honour.”

“I’m sure your brother told you I am always seeking new followers, I was hoping to welcome you into the fold very soon. I’m sure your brother would be proud.”

Goyle’s face flushed further and he beamed at his wife. “Anything to serve you and your cause my Lord.”

“That’s good to hear. I notice a congratulations is in order Mrs Goyle, the expansion of a pureblood family is always a source of celebration.”

“Thank you my Lord.” The woman herself appeared a little less enamoured with him than her husband. “It is a blessing for sure.”

“I hear there is some contention between your father and your uncle at the moment.”

She sniffed, put out by the suggestion. “I do not know what you have heard but it is all false my Lord.”

He gave a smile. “That is good. I wonder then if you would pass on a message to your father. Tell him if he wishes to maintain his portion of his wealth it would be worthwhile to meet with me. If he is agreeable have him contact your husband.”

She frowned in confusion at his words, her hand came to rest comfortingly on her bump. “Well I can pass on the message my Lord but I can’t guarantee he will want to see you. Don’t get me wrong, my family support what you do, what you believe in but they prefer to remain politically neutral.”

“I understand their concern, it is a sentiment mirrored by many of the old houses. Support does not always mean fighting though. As for staying neutral, in theory it is a wise idea but I’m afraid this is a war and eventually everyone will have to pick a side. I just want to ensure you are on the right side.”

He left them with that message, stalking away. He was confident it would be passed on, hopefully they would be agreeable, it would be a shame to have to kill any of them. They were powerful purebloods - he wanted to avoid spilling their blood if possible. 

By now he was getting fed up, parties weren’t really his thing and as the drink flowed, the guests were getting more and more raucous. He spotted Bellatrix returning to the grand hall from wherever she was, before she could locate him however she was accosted by some man. 

He knew he should have anticipated this as a problem, allowing such an attractive woman to wander off alone, of course she would be approached. Merlin knows the purebloods were desperate to meet new people not in their immediate gene pool.

“Sorry I have to get back to someone.”

He watched as she tried to slip past him. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

The young man tried to drag her towards the bar despite her resistance. Voldemort approached the pair of them, a look of panic on both their faces. He recognised the man as one of his followers, someone low in the ranks, Yaxley’s cousin maybe. It was clear the young death eater knew his master even with the mask. 

“Leave.”

Without needing to be told twice he scarpered away, probably just thankful he hadn’t been punished. The Dark Lord took the cigars off Bellatrix, she was wary of his reaction. 

“I think you had better return to your room, I will not be here much longer I think and I don’t need your assistance.”

Relief was evident across her face, he turned away from her, out to the patio for a smoke and to talk to his next target. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

It was only just past midnight when he finally decided to leave the ball. Voldemort was not one for parties, he never had been and drunken revellers were an unnecessary annoyance for him. Having mingled with those required and bidding his host a goodnight, he retreat up to his own quarters. There were other guests staying for the night but most weren’t ready to retire, the people he past on his way to his chambers were much more concerned with getting acquainted with each others bodies without the disapproving eyes of other purebloods. 

One such young couple barely managed to pull themselves apart from each others lips to get out of his way as he climbed the stairs. They were young, still teenagers probably but paid him no attention as soon as they realised he wasn’t one of their parents. 

As soon as he reached the corridor leading to his rooms he ripped off the stupid mask covering his face, no one else was staying here and he had been dying to take it off all night. The hallway was darkened so there was no chance of being spotted anyway. His skin felt sweaty and irritated where the mask had been and he rubbed it to soothe the sensation. 

He stopped immediately when he heard shouting, it was not coming from the direction of the party. It was a man’s voice and it seemed to be originating from his own chambers. Bursting into action, the Dark Lord swept towards his room, his wand drawn and at his side ready to use. Approaching his room, red lights bled out from under the door from whatever spells were being cast inside. 

For one moment there was an uncomfortable swooping sensation in his stomach as he remembered that his chambers wouldn’t be empty, Bellatrix would be there. Raising his wand in front of him, the door slammed open, ricocheting off the wall with force. 

The room was a mess, chairs overturned, a bookshelf half disintegrated and splatter of blood in the direction of his own room. There was obvious signs of pretty destructive magic used. The door to his own room was open, it was where the chase had lead. The source of the voice was clearer now and he stormed over. 

“You think you can just win him over by fluttering your eyelashes, I know you have cast a spell on him somehow, confounded him you stupid whore.” The shrill shouting was manic and paranoid, he had a fairly good idea who it was. As he entered the room a cruciatus curse was cast, worryingly there was no accompanying scream.

Bellatrix was lying on the ground, unconscious but her body still jerked under the effects of the powerful curse. Straddled above her was Barty Crouch, his eyes gleaming with a touch of madness as he held the curse for a moment longer unaware he was being watched. 

With a violent bang, Barty was thrown into the wall smashing a small side table and lamp that had no doubt been in the family for centuries. He screamed delightfully and clutch his now bloody arm, the bone breaking curse had been particularly successful. 

“What exactly do you think you are doing?” His voice was dangerous and even through the pain Barty was terrified. His eyes kept flitting to the unconscious woman between them and his Lord as he struggled to come up with a coherent explanation. 

“I’m sorry my Lord, you must understand. I was only doing this for you. Please, my Lord. She is dangerous.” Barty was begging with zeal, passionate in his apology and truly believing what he said. 

“I fail to see how this unconscious, unarmed half-blood woman could ever be seen as dangerous. I am sure you are not suggesting that she could somehow over power me, the Dark Lord.” Voldemort looked down at her briefly, in disbelief that he was going to have to punish a loyal servant because of her and to make sure she was definitely still breathing. 

The young lad before him was aghast at the suggestion. “No my Lord, she could never hope to overpower you, not physically or even with magic but I think she has ensnared you. She has used some sort of magic or potion to ingratiate herself to you, for favours. I’ve seen how you treat her, differently than anyone else. She is supposed to be an enemy yet you’re telling my father she’s your wife. She is not worthy my Lord.” 

His fervour was disturbing but Voldemort wouldn’t stand for the suggestion. Raising a hand he cut his outburst short. “I am deeply disappointed by you Barty. I am beginning to understand what this is about, it is nothing to do with her or the way I treat her. Even the lie I had to invent for your father to avoid attention. You are jealous.”

Barty was speechless for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he clutched his mangled arm. Voldemort stepped over Bella’s unconscious body to step way into the other man’s personal space. “You want to be number one Barty, you are desperate for my approval but this is not the way to do it. Breaking into my chambers and attacking my servant. Do you think I am so foolish as to fall victim to the whiles of silly women, or to not discipline my own staff properly?”

“My Lord, I meant no offensive of course and I’m so sorry I broke in but I only did it with your best intentions in mind.”

“It is only because of this that I am letting you live Barty. I appreciate your loyalty but never dare to forget my power.” He noticed the lad visibly relax with this reassurance. “This is not the end of this though, you will be punished severely but as your father is waiting downstairs for your return and I do not want to arouse suspicion, you should go.”

As Barty was about to slink past him, the Dark Lord rested a hand on his shoulder to stop him, his yew wand digging into his cheek. With a voice deadly and venomous he gave his last warning. “If you come near her again, even look at her, I will kill you. She is mine to punish and it’s my orders she obeys. This is the last I want to hear on the topic.”

Barty chewed on his bottom lip, he still had an issue with her but his desire to please his Lord won out. “Yes, my Lord. Whatever you wish.” 

He stumbled out of the room clutching his arm and left Voldemort and his servant alone. He would have to make up an elaborate excuse or manage to find someone with decent healing abilities that wouldn’t ask too many questions before he returned to his father but that was not the Dark Lord’s concern now. Unbeknownst to the younger lad, he had sifted through his memories, the recent vicious attack as well as a discussion with their blond host. It seemed Malfoy was no less concerned about Bella’s influence, however as typical for the slithery pureblood, he saw only opportunity to further his own agenda. He had attempted to dissuade the younger man, suggested they manipulate his servant to their own means, to use her to sway his decisions.  It was an absurd and abhorrent idea, one he couldn’t allow to fester. 

Without much thought he lifted her, she was practically featherweight and her head lolled awkwardly into his chest. He dropped her onto the bed, the soft duvet nearly swallowing her. She had a deep purple bruise on her left cheek, the bruise tracked up to underneath her eye and was sure to be sore when she woke. Other than that he could she no obvious signs of injury. Her breathing was laboured, the tightness of the black dress she was still wearing was straining slightly with every breath. 

He noticed her hair had completely broken free of its up-do as it fanned out across the white pillows framing her face. He would be a fool to deny she was beautiful but a fool indeed for placing her on his bed. He sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face trying to clear his thoughts.

Voldemort had plans to make anyway, it would do him no harm to stay up and keep busy. With bemusement he noticed she still had her shoes on, something the Malfoy’s would consider a travesty on their antique silk linen. Unfortunately he couldn’t really think of a spell that would take them off without removing her feet as well. 

Clasping a hand around her pale ankle and taking care to look up at her face to make sure she was still out, he pulled them off. The last thing he wanted was to be caught undressing her, well taking her shoes off anyway — he would look ridiculous. 

With his wand he waved the other half of the double duvet to fold over and hide her from his view. Turning out the main lights, he settled down with parchments and quill, working by candlelight to the sound of her rhythmic breathing trying not to think about whether there was any chance Barty had been right.

 

_______________________________________________________________________

 

The Dark Lord’s night of work was largely productive despite the few interrupts he suffered. Bellatrix slept well for the most part but on a couple of occasions, during lighter sleep she became more disturbed. Pathetic cries and a few whimpers before she settled again into deeper slumber. By the time light started to softly filter into the room, she was shifting restlessly. 

He sensed the exact moment she woke even though she lay still, blinking blearily. He swept the scrolls before him to the side before turning in his chair to watch her. She tensed below the duvet as she didn’t recognise the bed and sat up in alarm. Her dress had twisted a bit in her sleep, looking uncomfortable and her hair was frizzy, bordering on the ridiculous. 

It took Bellatrix a moment to even realise there was someone else in the room. Her eyes widened exaggeratedly as her eyes met his own as he casually watched. 

“M-master?” She urgently jumped out of the bed with a grace that was contrary to the torture she had endured the night before. Her wild eyes darted from the plain formal dress she was still wearing, to the bed, to the rest of the opulent room, including her shoes that had been placed neatly in front of her. 

A glimpse into her most acute thoughts and he realised she did not remember what had occurred the night before. His unnerving stare did not falter from her as he questioned. “How are you feeling?”

She frowned for a moment, her left hand unconsciously reaching for her cheek before stopping. He could only imagine the intense pain she would suffer if she touched the heavy bruise. “Umm, achy Master.” Her disorientation made her speak truthfully as she couldn’t discern what answer he wanted to hear. 

The slight woman shifted nervously, her voice desperate submission to find some answer to her curiosity. “Master, forgive me please but I can’t remember what happened.”

Voldemort leaned forward, his wand held loosely in his hand, pleased that she shrunk back. “After I dismissed you last night, Barty took it upon himself to punish you. You have no memory of this?”

She gritted her teeth for a moment as she gazed off into the distance for a moment, trying to remember but failing. “No, I don’t remember any of that master.” 

His own voice was low and soft, deceptively calm. “He told me it was because he thought I treated you specially.” He could practically see her sweating now, she believed that if he was trying to disprove his follower, a gruesome punishment was in store. “Do you think that’s true? Do you think you receive special treatment?”

He was genuinely curious to hear what she thought. Did any deluded part of her think she could manipulate him?

Testament to her upbringing, her response was simple, considered and provided with much more composure than he anticipated. “I don’t know master. You don’t have any other servants to compare.”

It gave him pause. True, he didn’t have any other servants, apart from his death eaters if he chose to include them but he couldn’t imagine that he treated her better than could be expected, definitely not better than any number of his followers. She was punished regularly for any minor misdemeanour and there was no promise of reward to keep her motivated, only the chance of staying alive. 

In fact he hadn’t expected such a frank answer, if she had come down either side of the statement — felt he punished her too severely or very unlikely claimed him too lenient, she would be making a rod for her own back. 

“I do not answer to anyone, especially not to my followers. He will be punished, not for any transgression against you but for taking liberties. Now go get ready, we will be departing shortly after breakfast.” He waved towards the room next door where her simple clothes were stored. 

The pair of them left the chambers and made their way to the dining hall, she took a detour when they were almost there to the kitchen instead. Lucius was already at the table with a newspaper laid out in front of him as well as an unidentified potion. Whatever its purpose, it didn’t seem to be doing its job as the blond man looked worse for wear. Beside him at the table was Dolohov, he was grinning like a moron at his breakfast and the Dark Lord was sure he was still drunk from the night before. 

It took them a moment to notice him at the doorway but they sprung up promptly at his entrance, waiting until he took his seat to return to their breakfast. 

“Morning my Lord. I hope you had an enjoyable or at least fruitful night last night.” Lucius had abandoned his paper as he spoke. 

He raised a sardonic eyebrow, completely ignoring Dolohov making a smily face on his plate with the pieces of fruits left out before them. “Lucius you should know by now how much I detest those ridiculous soirees.” All the pompous pure-bloods preening, it was always such a farce anytime he deigned to visit. “I did at least have a chance to talk to a few important guests last night.”

At that moment an omelette was slid in front of him, he ignored the teapot and stack of toast placed on the table. Dolohov’s eyes lingered curiously on his servant as she left the room but Voldemort paid no attention. “Barty Crouch was looking a bit worse for wear last night. Narcissa had to find a house-elf that was able to heal a broken arm, he couldn’t return to his father in his state.”

There was no subtly at all in Malfoy’s statement, it was obvious he had a good idea that the Dark Lord had been responsible. “Barty managed to find his way to my chambers.”

Malfoy and Dolohov’s mouths both fell open in shock at the thought.

“I apologise my Lord, I hadn’t thought to put extra wards in place on your chambers, usually the elves keep an eye out on the whereabouts of guests but…” The proud man at the end of the table trailed off realising he was very close to laying the blame on his Lord’s decisions. 

The tension in the room was interrupted by the sound of raised female voices followed by a sharp squeal. All three men stood in alarm, his followers looked to him in question, following quickly as he strode to the entrance hall.

It was almost humorous to witness. Bellatrix and Narcissa were practically brawling, both had a hand gripping the other woman’s hair, Bella had scratched the blonde woman’s neck whilst she had retaliated by grabbing at her shirt, ripping part of the fabric. 

With a bang the two women were thrown apart, landing heavily on the floor but clambering to their feet quickly. They both faced him then like two naughty children, still angry but caught out. 

Narcissa spoke first, trying to justify herself to the men. “My Lord, you must understand, it was her. She was accusing me, asking me how I could be loyal to you my Lord. As if I was in the wrong, the filth, daring to question our loyalty. The shocking things she was saying, she forgets I am a Malfoy now and proudly part of your cause.” 

She was throwing contemptuous looks at her sister, Bellatrix despite saying nothing, was returning her glare with a menacing one of her own. He wasn’t going to give her a chance to defend herself, he could see it was true. 

He raised his hand slowly, so slowly that Narcissa paled a little, suddenly afraid. Her eyes drifted to her husband’s briefly, almost asking for help but Lucius was far too cowardly for that. 

Pulling out his wand, he paused to listen to the fearful gasping breathes from the pair of them before levelling it at Bellatrix. It didn’t take her by surprise but her fear was palpable. 

“ _Crucio_.”

She was thrown back by the force of the spell landing with a crack on the ground as an unholy screech escaped her. Every muscle was taut in agony as she went rigid, her body contorting into a bizarre shape and her loose, ripped clothing twisted around her. 

By now Narcissa had backed against the wall, white with terror, unable to look away from the punishment. Tears welled up in her eyes as she pressed herself back, almost as if she was trying to disappear into the wall. He could practically taste her fear, Narcissa was such a delicate flower. Despite being married to one of his lieutenants and hosting the Dark Lord on a number of occasions, she had never come so directly into contact with what he did. 

It was the reason she was able to conduct herself in such a confident manner around him, she had never had real cause to fear him before, Lucius had always done his best to protect her from this world. Healing himself before returning to her side after any punishment, it kept her soft.

She had tried to block out the screams, her hands were covering her ears and she had half sunk down to the floor. Deep down it didn’t matter what the insipid woman claimed, Bellatrix was still family to her, as much as she was disgusted by her it didn’t just blot out the years of happy childhood memories they had together and he doubted Bellatrix could ever have done anything that would cause Narcissa to wish such a savage punishment on her. 

This wasn’t just to punish both women though, it was to set an example for all of them. He refused to have any of his death eaters even dare suggest he somehow favoured Bellatrix, it was an abhorrent and dangerous idea and one that needed quashing immediately. 

By the time he had released the curse, the tortured woman was nearly blue in the face. Her breathing was harsh and shallow but was overshadowed by Narcissa’s sobs. 

“Foolish woman, pull yourself together. This is want you wanted, she dared to question your loyalty so it was a just punishment.” He turned around to the two men, scowling at Lucius to indicate he could comfort his fragile wife. “Antonin, get her up, I need to leave.”

The heavy set man had certainly sobered up now and marched over to the dark haired woman. By now she had pulled herself up to a seated position as her limbs still jerked independently. Dolohov grabbed her roughly under her arms dragging up to her feet but she shoved him off as soon as she regained her balance. 

 

____________________________________________________________

 

They returned from Malfoy manor to a solemn atmosphere. The weekend after the holiday had passed with much less fanfare, the only sign it was still the festive season was the soft, gentle snowfall that fell sporadically outside. 

Voldemort was currently sat in finely wrought, antique armchair in front of the crackling fire. The library was largely shrouded in darkness as he jotted vague notes as he thought. He just needed to figure out a way to manipulate things so that he got what he wanted, with minimal cost to himself. 

People could just be so stupid. There he was, master of the darkest arts, attempting to propel pureblood society ahead and gain power for himself. All this and he still had fools wishing for more money, influence and now for arranging marriage proposals. 

He growled to himself as he threw another crumpled sheet of parchment into the fire, the corners curling and blacking before disappearing. Closing his eyes for a moment, he decided to give it a rest. All the political manoeuvring bored him, he could have joined the ministry if that’s what he wanted. No, he missed the action. 

The Dark Lord did not consider himself a sadist but he enjoyed showing off and wielding his immense power. Torturing Bellatrix was losing its charm, perhaps it was about time he joined a few raids again. 

He stood from the armchair and heading out of the room away from the fire, the air rapidly cooling around him, reminding him of the frigid weather outside. As he headed to the far side of the house, he paused when he noticed the kitchen light off. It was getting late but it wouldn’t be unusual for Bellatrix to still be finishing up.

Although mildly irritated by her absence, he was taken aback when he glanced into the room and saw a dimly lit silhouette. He was flustered for a moment before he realised she had her back to him. Framed in the low light, he only just make out ebony hair flowing down her back as she leant forward over the sink to gaze at something out the window. 

“What are you looking at?”

The simple enquiry made her jolt and spin around, the relaxed posture replaced with coiled tension. A ragged grey cloth was twisted anxiously in her hands. 

“I…” She threw a distracted glance over her shoulder at the window again. “It’s just the snow.”

There was a melancholic tinge to her voice, as she gazed wistfully out at the winter scene. As irritating as it was to not have her full attention, he couldn’t blame her. She had not been able to take a single step outside since her capture, no wonder she was going stir crazy. 

With a sudden fit of generosity he made his mind up quickly and with a step opened the back door in the kitchen. An icy chill immediately blew into the room, the air crisp and fresh. It only took him a second to reset the wards he had made, it was straightforward enough to simply change the boundary as he wished. 

“Come here.” He waved her toward himself and the door. She brooked no hesitation in following his command and joined him at the threshold, her eyes bright and yearning at the view outside. Voldemort gestured out the doorway but she was frozen. 

“Go on, move.” When she failed to move again he gave her a healthy shove out the door. Caught by surprise and the step down into the garden, she stumbled only just catching herself just before she fell head first into the snow. 

Bellatrix didn’t seem bothered at all by his actions, not that she would have said anything regardless. She was completely enraptured by the sights, sounds and feel of being outside and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was with childish delight that she raised her arms, her head held back as she caught snow flakes on her tongue. Her cheeks were rosy red, full of more life than he had ever seen and she gave a sincere joyous laugh. 

It unnerved him. Her wild abandon as she spun and laughed. Water glistened on her cheek and it was difficult to tell if it was melting snow or tears. 

He had never seen her like this, certainly not outside the memories he had stolen. She had become so despondent, so downtrodden that he had little chance to see this side of her. Perhaps that was the key - there must have been some nostalgic reason for this reaction, a significant memory triggered by the snow. It was more challenging to see anything in her mind, as if her elated mood had revitalised her magic as well but despite this he couldn’t find anything substantial that would explain her behaviour. 

By now she had dropped to her knees, ignoring the moisture seeping through her thin clothes and buried her hands into the soft white snow. Even from his distance he could see her hands turning red, the gentle shiver running through her. At that moment she looked up at him, seemed to remember he was still witness and he almost shuddered himself at the sight. Tiny specks of melting snow had fallen in her shining hair, her cheeks, lips and the very tip of her nose had become red in the cold, standing out against her pale skin. Her eyes glistened with life as she exhaled warm misty air. In that one brief moment, he could read every emotion on her face and the one that struck him hard was that she was grateful, and happy. 

By now she was giggling, a strange, manic sound that had the hairs on the back of his neck on end. She began tracing out a pattern in the snow with her bare fingers, he couldn’t tell what she was doing, whether it be words or some kind of rune. It gave him the most uncomfortable squirming sensation low in his stomach and he almost had to turn away. 

“Bellatrix.”

Despite his stern call, she failed to even acknowledge him. She reminded him of an inattentive, disobedient child sprawled out playing in the snow. 

“Bellatrix!” 

Her playfulness vanished in a second, muted to the reserved, anxious expression she usually wore as she remembered her place. She stood dismally, her shuddering much more pronounced now and he knew she was frightened again. A few seconds forgotten, it came back that much keener. 

Against his own instincts he decided to let it pass. “I have extended the wards to about twenty metres around the house. You may step outside once in a while when you have finished the rest of your work. Do not make me regret this generosity.”

She gave a short, sharp nod, the movement shifting her dark hair and scattering the melting snowflakes.  Misted formed in the air from her rapid breathing, if he hadn’t known any better he would have thought she had been running. Bellatrix swept past him when he inclined his head back to the kitchen, clearly understanding her playtime was over. 

He would have been convinced it was the wind if she hadn’t physically faltered for a moment when he heard the soft, sincere ‘ _thanks_ ’ she gave him. She understood the value of his graciousness. 

 

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Voldemort gave a final grunt as he finished himself off in the shower. It wasn’t often he gave into such base desires but his frustrations had been ratcheted to a new high. Between the stall in his plans regarding his horcrux, the discontent that seemed rife with his followers and other factors much closer to home, the need for release was the most immediate solution to his problems. 

It didn’t take long for the relief to fade, leaving disappointing emptiness in its place and he sighed as he turned the shower off. The water had turned cold anyway. He didn’t spare a glance at his reflection as he wrapped a towel loosely around himself. He had been so distracted the last few days, the lack of progress in any of his plans set him on edge. Staying at a standstill was as much of a failure in his eyes.

The Dark Lord had set himself the deadline of next week for his horcrux. By then the weather was due to settle and it was earliest he could safely wander the wilderness. It meant he had to resolve the problems with his servants before then. 

He only just managed to stop himself from jumping when he heard a shocked gasp from behind him. Whipping round, he spotted Bellatrix crouched by his armoire replacing his neatly folded robes. They were both frozen for a moment, alarmed by the others unexpected presence. 

Only the straying of her eyes broke him out of his reverie, his skin goose-bumped as he realised she was tracing the numerous silvery scars on his chest, back and shoulders, marring the pale skin. And then he saw it, for the briefest of moments, a flash of pity in her eyes. 

The second she met his steely gaze again she knew her mistake. She stood quickly, an attempt to excuse herself from the room but he was already halfway across it. His wand was forgotten as he brought his fist down into her cheek, enough to propel her back into the wall, her head colliding with a crack. 

How dare she, how dare this weak, indentured woman spare him any sort of pity. He was the greatest dark wizard there had ever been and she looked to him with pity, the fool. He himself did not mind the scars, they reminded him that people will always lash out at things, at people, they do not understand. That the weak will always try to break down the strong but he had risen above all of it. For God’s sake he had attained immortality and this stupid girl dared to spare him an ounce of pity.

The impact on her head seemed to have dazed her for a moment but a sharp kick to the ribs brought her around. She began to whimper pathetically as she curled into herself, she didn’t even bother to beg. She had learnt quickly that he was immune to her snivelling mewling. 

He paused for a moment, the chill of the room reminding him of his nakedness. Weary all of a sudden he sat down on the side of his bed, watching her silently. Her dark locks had broken free and shielded her face from him but he knew from her light trembling that she was noiselessly weeping. She was truly the figure to be pitied. 

“We are alike, you and I.”

He surprised even himself when he said it. Bellatrix gave no response other than to still under her canopy of hair but he knew she was listening intently. 

“My mother, like yours was a waste of magic. She betrayed her blood, her family and herself for some perverse idea of love. She was _weak_ and so she died.” _Leaving me alone_ he added unnecessarily in his head. “My mother allowed herself to just simply fade away into nothing, at least yours had enough strength left in her for one final act. Although leaving you and relying on the mercies of an unmerciful house was one hell of a gamble.”

By now she had shifted, to watch him with equal measures of distain and disbelief. Suspicious but curious. He continued unbidden. 

“Surely you were told of your mothers death?” The look on her face gave him his answer. “She killed herself, you were probably only a couple of weeks old-if that.”

“Lies!” She practically hissed at him, a fire alight in her eyes. He forgot how she could burn when the embers were properly stoked. “You are lying!” She shook her head vehemently in denial but he knew, he could feel it in the deep recesses of her mind. He had seen the snide remarks from Druella, the insinuations made by the rest of her relatives in her memories. As doggedly as she had tried to deny it, she had in some sense always known. It explained why her father had been determined never to tell her anything about it and her family’s insistence that she was temperamental and untameable, always destined to be unstable. 

“Why would I lie? What do I have to gain?” He leant back on palms on his bed with confidence. Despite his state of undress, there was never any doubt who had the upper hand as he looked down on her. 

“No, you couldn’t possibly know that.” Disbelief coated her words as everything she knew started to fracture.

“Of course I could. I met with your father numerous times before he died. Make enough promises and he would tell you anything, or give you anything.”

She reminded him of a wildcat, cornered, spitting and hissing. Wanting to lash out but essentially helpless. It was fun to  taunt her, goad her into such a state. It reminded him of playing with the stray cats that frequently turned up at the orphanage, hours spent teasing them and torturing them before finally putting them out of their misery. 

“You are a liar! I won’t believe anything you say.”

“That is nothing, I know secrets about your family that would turn you to stone. Those people, they were nothing to you and thought nothing of you.” He paused for a mere second, he had already said far more than he had ever intended but once he started, it was difficult to just let go. “Your father didn’t die from natural causes. God, even in such as inbred family as yours, he was too young a man for that. _Someone_ hastened his demise.”

He smirked cruelly at her, he knew exactly the conclusion she would draw from that. He wasn’t disappointed when she shrieked - a bloody, shrill sound that would have made a weaker man cringe. He noticed her hands grasping and realised she was searching for her wand. 

“I hate you!” Such venom in her voice, he had never heard such malice from her before. He knew she meant it, everybody hated him. Just not as much as they feared him. He didn’t like the idea that her hatred of him could ever outweigh her fear - it made her a liability, a threat even.

When he rose again, he noticed her rage quell somewhat but nowhere near enough. Summoning his wand, he levelled it at her. “ _Latet ignite_.”

Her scream turned from furious to agonised in a flash as his spell took hold. Flames licked up her legs to her hips as she frantically tried to smother them with her hands to no avail. This magic could not be batted out, the fire would leave no burns, no trace but she would still feel her skin boiling and scorching. 

Bellatrix writhed on the floor, basic instinct telling her to move, to escape the pain. Head thrown back, neck taut and hair dishevelled, she was a sight to behold. As soon as he lifted the curse, her whole body seemed to slump. He noticed as he crouched down on one knee to loom over her that she was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. 

Somehow throughout the pain, she still managed to wheeze. “None of that,” she cringed for a moment from the effort. “None of that makes us alike. We are not the same.”

He gave a malicious grin as he pushed some of her curls off her face, ignoring the way she flinched from his touch. “Oh no, that’s not what makes us alike dearest Bellatrix. It’s all in the blood.” With the nail on his thumb he easy sliced the delicate skin of her cheek, blooms of deep red contrasted sharply with her deathly pallor. She gave a sharp intake but no other sign of pain. 

Her brow crinkled in confusion and he took the moment to step back. In his quest to terrorise her, he had inadvertently shared much more about himself than he had ever intended. The fact that she didn’t seem to understand wasn’t enough to stop him from considering a quick _obliviate_ but he decided against it in the end. 

The Dark Lord dragged his hand through his still damp hair in irritation, catching a glimpse of himself in the standing mirror. The silvery scars clearly visible, the whole reason this started and the evidence of his penance paid for having no family. For being a freak. 

“Leave.” He didn’t bother to turn to her, the sound if her scrabbling from the room frantically told him she had heard. He needed to dress, to feel put together again.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Apologies for the delay - laptop has been out of action! Thanks for continuing to follow, nice knowing there are some people interested in reading. 

 

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The echoing murmurs stopped immediately as soon as Lord Voldemort raised his hands. His inner circle had been gathered before him, nervous and confused as to why they had been summoned. He looked to each of them in turn, making no attempts to disguise the scorn on his face. 

Despite there being twelve of them in front of them, he would only rate three or four of them as particularly outstanding in some area or other, and even less as truly loyal. 

“I am sure you are all aware of the new mandate of the department of magical law enforcement - lethal force is permitted if necessary including the use of any unforgivable force against anyone believed to be a death eater.” 

Even though all his followers had undoubtedly already heard the news, there was an outburst of furious whispering and booing. Someone further down the enlarged table, Dolohov perhaps, had slammed their fist down in exuberant rage. 

“Crouch has decided he would like to try and play us at our own game, he forgets of course that you have all had much more practice.”

Malfoy guffawed beside him but was ignored. 

“A short sighted agenda. There will certainly be innocent casualties and it reflects dreadfully on the ministry if they not only fail to protect their citizens but actively kill them too. It will make our eventual take over that much easier.”

They all nodded dumbly, all except Severus who was watching him intently. 

“As such I would like to reinstate regular training sessions, not just for the new recruits either. Each of you will lead these sessions and include every recruit you have worked with.” He preferred to prevent as much overlap between followers as possible, the identity of his servants made good intel for his opposition. 

“It will be up to yourselves how you arrange this - I have no problem with competition as long as there is not too many fatalities. We shall leave that to the enemy.”

“I feel it is also worth pointing out at this stage that I am encouraging the capture and deaths of any aurors, anyone who kills any of their number shall be rewarded. After all, less aurors means less people trying to kill us and it takes them a lot longer to boost their numbers.”

His eyes shot to Rodolphus when he heard him clear his throat uncomfortably. “And what of the resistance group my Lord?”

He gave a sardonic smile in response. “I would be less concerned with them. Dumbledore would never encourage his little entourage to use lethal force. There may however be overlap between the two so be wary and slaughter as you see fit.”

The Dark Lord noticed a few bloodthirsty grins from his servants - what those few men lacked in pure talent, they more than made up for in sadism. 

“Now leave, I am sure you have enough to be doing.” He turned to the greasy young man half way down the table. “Except you Severus, come here.” He indicated the now vacated seat beside him. 

With a certain inelegance the younger man made his way to him. “My Lord.”

“Well?

Snape shook his head grimly. “Unfortunately I have little to share my Lord. I have seen very little of Dumbledore lately, he spends extended periods of time away from the school and has not felt the need to confide in me about these absences. As you correctly predicted however, he met with the Order and has condemned Crouch’s orders. He has been looking into ways to reign him in but with fear at an all time high, people want someone strong and ruthless in charge of protecting them.”

He nodded disinterestedly. “What about the ingredients I asked for?”

“I managed to procure them all my Lord. Most of them were available from my storerooms at the school but a few were… a little more specialist.”

Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t care where you got them, as long as you didn’t incriminate yourself. You would be little use to me in Azkaban.”

“Nothing to be concerned about. I was led to understand you also wished me to brew a number of potions for you my Lord?”

“Yes. It should only take you this afternoon. After all, whats the point in having a great potioneer if he had to make everything himself.

“I will get started my Lord. First I wished to know if there was anything you wished for me to relay back to the Order. They are all getting rather antsy waiting on some solid information.”

“Oh, tell them we are targeting Ely Rockwell. That should keep them in a flap for a while.”

Severus raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Are we, my Lord?”

He smirked in response. “Yes Severus, I know how you detest to give them faulty information, as if it reflects badly on you.”

The other man didn’t seem to appreciate his humour. “I suppose I had better get started then my Lord.”

They stood simultaneously and he waved for Severus exit first. He would leave him to his work, the man was methodical and efficient. It wouldn’t take him long to be finished. 

In fact he only left it four hours before he went to check on his servant, pausing in his approach as he heard voices as he neared.

"No, not like that. You have to pierce it first, you can't just chuck the whole thing in foolish woman or you will ruin it."

A stubborn voice bit back. "I know what I'm doing _Snape,_ I'm sure I've had a lot more practice at this sort of thing than you. It's not exactly on the Hogwart's curriculum."

Severus' response was scathing. "Oh I don't doubt you have more experience than I do but you are just being childish now. I've already done what I can and apologised for the rest. It's the last you'll get from me. Now finish up chopping that wormwood, I'm going to need it in a minute."

For a while the only sounds were the soft bubbling of the cauldron and a steady, rhythmic chopping noise. Sure he had overheard all he would, Voldemort entered. 

Two large copper cauldrons were boiling on a long table in the middle of the room. There were giving off soft plumes of purple steam. A further two smaller pewter cauldrons were gently simmering on another long table set against the far wall. The room was arranged as many typical pureblood potions rooms were.

Severus was grinding something in a marble mortar beside the copper cauldrons, his gaze split between the bubbling potions and his apparent assistant. Bellatrix was chopping bunches of dried shrubs with quick precision. She had used a scarf to tie her hair up off her face, a good decision if the frizzy mess he could see peeking out the back was anything to go by. The humidity in the stuffy room obviously didn’t suit her, there was a sheen on her forehead . She reminded him oddly of the those sturdy, hard working women on the old propaganda posters of the war when he was a child, with her white disgustingly stained apron and rolled up sleeves. 

“My lord, I didn’t hear you.” Severus set down his pestle before pointing at Bella. “Don’t you dare stop, those need to be added, finely chopped, in the next two minutes.”

She scowled at him but continued nevertheless. Snape turned to the table behind him. “As you can see, we are making good progress.” He indicated the tray set with an array of potions of different sizes and colours, all with their own labels. “These are done, it is just the last couple you see that need finishing.”

“Am I right in understanding you have had her working on these?” His voice was low but even with his back to her, he knew she had heard.

Snape’s expression never changed. “She has been merely assisting me with the preparation of ingredients, despite her insistence, I did not deem her proficient enough to take part in the actual potion making.”

He raised an eyebrow in question but Severus was off again. “Speaking of which, give me that Bellatrix.” He grabbed the chopping board off her and moved to one of the cauldrons, tipping it in and stirring it twice. Bella watched this with a pout but didn’t say a word, only dropping the large knife she was brandishing when she noticed Voldemort’s steely gaze. 

“Out.” With a stiff head movement toward the door he dismissed her. 

As soon as the door shut behind her, he rounded on his servant. “You think that was wise?”

“My Lord, I apologise if I have stepped out of turn but I assure you she was nowhere near the potions, there is no chance of contamination or sabotage.”

His servant’s assurance did somewhat appease him, Severus was so steady and collected, it always managed to assuage his anger. “Does she know what you were making?”

Snape gave a snort of derision as he reduced the flames under one of the cauldrons. “I highly doubt that, she has some knowledge of the dark arts and potion making but could hardly guess from only seeing half the ingredients. I don’t even know what all these potions are for.”

There was an expectant pause but Voldemort would never reveal his plans so easily. “Were you discussing anything else?”

He couldn’t help suspect that there was more to Bella’s presence than simply just helping out. Snape was more than capable on his own. The other man’s face was a mask, never changing, never showing any hint of emotion, fear or even guilt. It was what made him the perfect spy. 

“I only enquired about her wellbeing out of politeness — she was quite unwell the last time I saw her. Other than that we only really talked about the task at hand, my Lord.”

A seed of anxiety bloomed in his chest as a sudden thought struck him. “They don’t know, do they? That she’s here?”

The younger man seemed to hesitate for a moment as he scraped some slimy black little beans into the cauldron with gentle plops. “No, not here. They seem to believe the rumours you have spread, that she has joined our side but no one has any clue she is… in direct contact with you, my Lord.”

“Hmm, lets keep it that way.” He waved a hand absently at the cauldrons. “Finish up with this as soon as you can and return to the school. Leave them all on the tray and make sure you lock up.”

He dreaded to think what damage could be done if Bella managed to sneak in. Despite Snape’s insistence, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with her being near such important things. The dark magic that required them was dangerous enough without any muck up in their concoction. 

 

 

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The Dark Lord tensed as he stepped out into the night, an icy wind blasted him and threatened to unravel the black robes shrouding him. He made his way through the street, bypassing Diagon alley to reach Knockturn alley. There would be no dark mark left over the tall townhouse he had just vacated. 

Pushing down the voice of reason in his head he strode into the shadowy, winding streets. The place was empty, the cold and the danger had forced even the most suspicious of characters away. Finding his target he opened the battered, peeling door with a quick spell and eagerly stepped out of the chill. 

A silent _lumos_ lit up the drab interior, the floor littered with junk adverts that had never been picked up and the place had a vague smell of overcooked vegetables. Ascending the stairs, with a silencing spell on his feet as the creaking could wake the dead, he knew immediately when he had reached his destination. 

Number 6A had old crime tape still stuck to it and he detected a weak ward, likely left by the auror who had come to take a look around. A ‘to let’ poster had also been left on the door, rather ineffective as the crime tape alone would be enough to put anyone off but the only people likely to see it would also be the other tenants. He made short work of the ward and finally reached his foolish destination. 

Inside was just as dark but he lit the various candles and lanterns with a flash of his wand. The room glowed, the effect enhanced by the luxurious and warm red and purple furnishings. Everything about the open living room seemed to be chosen for its comfort, there were beautiful blankets and rugs decorating the room and bizarre pieces of art hung from the walls. There was a musky smell from being empty for long but underneath he could still detects hints of her despite the chilly breeze that blew through. 

Everything about the flat fit Bellatrix exactly, yet he still found it so alien. He had only ever had contact with Bella in his own home, he found it strange to imagine her in any other context. Like seeing a professor during the school holidays and realising their lives don’t begin and end with your own. As if she had a life that hadn’t revolved around him. 

The kitchen was off to the side, dust had settled on the counter and there was a plate with mouldy crumbs still sat next to the sink. He quietly made his way to it, taking a moment to wash the splashes of blood left on his arm. When he was done found the source of the chill, a top corner pane of window had been smashed, small shards of glass littered the carpet. A door opposite that had been left ajar, one that likely led to the bedroom, the door creaking ominously every so often with a particularly strong gust of wind. 

He stalled for a moment, he knew this was madness. What was he even looking for here? No good could come from his presence but now that he had come this far he was reluctant to turn back. 

Creeping silently across the room he noticed large flower boxes on the windowsill, small deadly carnivorous plants, it was an odd choice. Perhaps not, they had survived all that time and in the dead of winter alone. Pushing on he stepped into the next room. It was a much larger room than he had anticipated and could only make sense with magic. 

A large bed sat against the farthest wall, again covered with a multitude of blankets and cushions. The mahogany bedside cabinet was stacked with heavy textbooks. There was a study desk covered with scraps of paper, a total mess but the chances were the aurors had looked through them. He couldn’t really decipher them with a cursory glance, it didn't resemble any language he was familiar with. 

Above this were a few photographs on the wall. A small faded one with Bella and her family, she was probably only about seven - she and Andromeda were both waving out at him, the only ones expressing any emotion. Another photo had three faces all pushing each other to fill the picture, their beaming faces looking out at him. Bellatrix was obviously the one to the left, more recognisable but so young. He could just see a flash of collar from the Hogwart’s uniform, they were about sixteen. He didn’t know the other two girls, they were not her sisters anyway. 

The last picture was much more recent. Bellatrix was alone, standing awkwardly in front of an exotic scene. He picked the picture up to examine it closer. He could see her skin was sun kissed as she wrapped her arms around herself, apparently uncomfortable being the sole occupant and under his intense scrutiny.  Voldemort watched for a moment transfixed, he wondered who had taken the picture before returning it to its position. 

There were random nicknacks and personal effects everywhere but his next point of interest was the small potions area in the other half of the room. It seemed a bit reckless to him to make potions in a bedroom but he didn’t ponder it too long. There were a few out of date ingredients lying around and numerous invoices scattered all over the place. He understood their significance immediately, no longer a Black family member she had to make a living somehow. Selling potions to Aloysius’ Advanced Apothecary was a sensible idea at such a politically volatile time.  

There was a noticeable absence of substantial ingredients, he thought vaguely that the aurors may have confiscated them when an odd shimmer of magic caught his attention. Underneath the long table was the faintest trace of a glamour spell, obvious only now that he had spotted it. 

Curious, he waved his wand to disable it and a small wooden trapdoor appeared. He couldn't imagine what someone like Bellatrix had decided was worth hiding in such a way but he certainly wanted to know. As if sensing his intent the door swung open with a bang, inviting him in. There was a soft glow of light radiating up the rickety wooden stairs but he couldn’t see anything else. Holding his wand high he moved the table back out of the way and slowly descended. 

It was nothing like what he expected but he knew now why she had hidden the secret room. There were rows of verdant plants and flowers, some he knew were highly illegal and dangerous but precious potion ingredients. Very expensive and hard to find. The aurors would have had a field day in here. There were shelves of books on one side of the room and he would have bet a limb that they were full of dark, forbidden spells and potions. 

The thing that drew his attention was a bright, glowing orb hovering in the centre of the room. He made his way to it captivated. Its purpose was obvious; few plants could survive such time down in the dark but this incredible source of energy had sustained them. It was powerful, complex magic. 

It appeared that Bella had been hiding a lot from him. He had not imagined she would ever be involved in anything legally dubious and he found it easy to forget that she was from such an ancient, dark family. With a last admiring glance at the remnants of her magic, he made his way back up to the main flat. He was making sure to reseal the wards when a loud clatter from the next room nearly made him jump. 

Raising his wand he waited with bated breath in the bedroom but when no one came in he cautiously investigated. He wasn’t so worried about a threat, he was more powerful than anyone who could have intruded. More powerful than anyone, but yet he was not keen on a scene of violence in Bella’s home. 

There was a soft scrapping sound, it seemed to come from the kitchen area. He stepped around the corner and cast a silent spell, petrificulus totalus lighting up the room in white flash, hitting his mark. He almost chuckled to himself, a young tabby cat was standing frozen still over its empty metal bowl. It must have slinked through the broken window. 

He only debated with himself for a quick second before he picked the creature up by the scruff of its neck. It was stiff and heavy in his arm but he thought it would be a small act of mercy to bring her some company. He had debated before about capturing himself more help, someone else to assist in the maintenance of his home but he could never do it. An intrusion in their comfortable arrangement, a distraction for her from her duty to him seemed like an unnecessary mistake.  

No, a pet was perfect. Company for her — a kind reward, as well as perfect bargaining chip for any perceived misdemeanour. She would be grateful for such a mercy, he understood loneliness could be destructive, ruinous and he did not wish for that for her. He wanted to be in control of her destruction. 

 

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Voldemort stood at the threshold of the front door as he watched the brown owl disappear into the darkness. The air was still crisp and icy but the snow had started melting earlier that week. It was almost time for the creation of his new horcrux. He sighed and began to turn back into the house when he saw flashing lights on the last of the sparkling ice. 

He whipped his wand out and cautiously approached the circle of flashing colours on the ground. It was only when he stood above it that he realised the light was coming from the small window in the attic. It seemed like Bellatrix was keeping herself amused. 

The Dark Lord stalked back into the house, he was already less than impressed with his servant at the moment. It was only a few hours earlier that he had returned back home from visiting her home and foolishly he had presented her with the pet he had retrieved for her. 

Her reaction had irked him greatly. Instead of gratitude, she had merely stared at him and the hissing fur ball with total apathy. He had dumped the spitting creature onto her lap where it had settled happily but she only petted it half-heartedly. He just didn’t understand her, he had for once done her a small act of kindness but it barely seemed to register with her. In his heart of hearts he was starting to worry that he had pushed her too far, that she was starting to become simple. 

Barrelling through the dimly lit manor, he ascended the stairs to the attic, her own private sanctum. Voldemort had not stepped foot back in the attic area since Bellatrix had been unwell. It had truly become her own space and he never had much interest or felt he had good reason to invade it. 

With minimal force the rickety door fell open and he spotted Bellatrix immediately on the same bed he had last seen her occupy, propped up on her pillows. For the briefest moment she was illuminated before his eyes by a number of floating, multicoloured bright orbs that were gently rotating above her bed. As soon as she became distracted by his entrance, the light died and they were plunged into half darkness. 

For a moment the only sound was her heavy breathing - he knew she was anxious about being caught out. It was oddly intimate in the brief disorientation, in the silence she sounded much closer than he knew she was. Slowly he flicked his wand and the only stunted candle burst into flame. 

She had half sat up, alarmed at his unexpected intrusion. 

“What were you doing?”

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment before she spoke. “Master, I was just…”

She trailed off and he finished for her. “Amusing yourself?”

Bellatrix bowed her head, unwilling to speak when she knew there was no correct answer, and awaited her punishment. 

He took a step closer and she only just managed to stop herself from quailing from him.

“Show me.”

Her head snapped up and frowned as she tried to decide if she had heard him correctly or if she was walking into a trap. Voldemort moved closer still, enjoying the way he physically intimidated her. 

“Show me what you were just doing.”

This statement left no room for argument. Unsure, she raised her hands until they were cupped in front of herself and she stared at them intently. He followed her line of sight and waited expectantly. 

Nothing happened. His wand twitched unconsciously in his hand and when he had started to think she was mocking him in some way, at last a soft glowing light grew in her soft hold. It burnt out quickly and she looked up at him in fear, chewing her bottom lip in worry. 

“What happened?”

“I- I can’t do it unless I am relaxed or distracted by thoughts.” She seemed ashamed at the admission but he ignored it. 

“How long have you been able to do that?” 

She gave a halfhearted shrug and smoothed out the blanket she was half underneath. “Since school I think. I always had much more success with wandless magic than silent spells - as long as it’s nothing too complicated.”

He probed her curiously. “What’s most complicated spell you have done?”

Bella seemed to consider for a brief moment. “It depends, I can sometimes levitate things or summon them if they are close by. I have managed some weak silencing spells before but they never last long.” She hesitated for a second, poised to say something but doubt preventing her. 

She tensed as he moved closer, towering over her. Nervously she adjusted her thin nightgown under his gaze and when she glanced up, their eyes locked giving him the easy access he sought.  

Everything within the memory was moving, for a second he thought she might have been attempting to throw him out but it was in fact the Bellatrix in the memory, bounding down one of the hallways of the opulent Black manor. The details were stretched and distorted at the limits of what he could see, he struggled with the immense build up of emotions that filled the scene. 

Bella was a few years younger than at present although he hadn’t yet managed to catch a clear look at her as she tore down the corridor. She reached a door near the end and without missing a beat, burst through it. The force caused it to slam against the wall and shut again behind her as she stopped and stood, paralysed in the centre of the room. 

It was obvious to the Dark Lord that this was not her bedroom, the pale blue decor and girly effects were not what he recognised from previous memories. 

After the door slammed the only sound in the room were her harsh, heaving breaths that didn’t only come from physical activity. Voldemort observed her intently, he had never seen such raw, turbulent emotion on her face. It was like staring into the midst of a storm. He had never, not even after torturing her, seen such barely constrained fury. 

Before he lost himself entirely in her, she raised her hands determinedly. In a blast of light and smoke, fire consumed the bed and wardrobe in front of her. It twisted and heaved, acrid smoke blooming off it as it blazed, burning through everything in its path. It spread within seconds around the room, flames licked at the ceiling as it blackened, the carpet scorched around the dark haired woman in the centre. 

The searing blaze lit up her face, deepening the shadows across her face and in the intensity her eyes looked nearly black. A cold sensation flashed over him as he caught the subtle smirk on her face as she seemed to stare straight through him. 

Voldemort withdrew rapidly from her mind, leaving her cringing as they returned to her present room. He stared at her through new eyes. He had always known, intuited that there was more to her than the stories and rumours. He had never doubted his own instincts, and yet again he was proved correct. Although he had never felt himself to be someone that attached much weight to superstitions, he had a certain respect for perceived influences of fate. She had been brought before him for some reason or other, _that_ he had yet to determine. 

By now she had recovered and eyed him cautiously, an unexplained blush had risen from her throat to her cheeks. 

 _“That_ was fiendfyre, certainly more powerful than a summoning spell.” The fact she knew such dark magic didn’t surprise him, the ease with which she handled such a spell did. It was no easy feat, many skilled witches and wizards had lost their lives creating such magic, yet she had manipulated it without a wand with such composure. Something about the memory had unsettled him. “That was your sister’s room, wasn’t it?”

She nodded jerkily, speaking only when it was obvious he was waiting for more. “Yes, Andromeda’s room.”

The picture fell into place for him. “It was the day she left.”

“Yes.” She continued unbidden, her voice still bitter. “She decided to leave, so I had too as well. Druella blamed me for influencing her. They all did. At least they couldn’t blame me for Sirius.” She muttered the last bit under her breath, obviously not intending it to be heard despite the way she spat her cousins name. 

“And yet you went to him, after you were brought to me the first time.”

Bellatrix grimaced at the reminder. Whether it was the reminder that she had turned to her cousin for help, or the fact that she had once been freed by him, it didn’t matter to him. 

“Why?”

She worked her jaw for a moment before answering, as if she needed to chew the words for a few seconds to make them more palatable. “Sirius was the only person I knew was bound to be connected to the resistance group, it was always in his nature to be in opposition. You asked me to talk to them.”

“Yes I did.” He took another small step forward, so close his knee pressed against the metal bed frame near the end of the bed. “Why did you so dislike him? More than your sister, you still hold affection for her, despite everything.”

She prickled at the questioning, he could practically hear her grinding her teeth. “A clash of personalities I suppose.” 

He shook his head. “Tell me the truth.”

He wasn’t prepared for her intense, almost challenging stare. For a split second he wondered if he was revealing much more about himself with his questions and tortures than he had considered before. This line of thought was broken by her petulant voice. 

“He has always been a spoilt, ungrateful brat. He has been born with everything in the world; pureblood, heir to an ancient house, more money than he could ever spend in a lifetime and a family that only wanted the best for him. Since he was a child he threw his privilege in the faces of others, turning his nose up at everything and turning his back on the only responsibility he had. He never appreciated how lucky he was.” By the end of her tirade, the bitterness in her voice gave way to grief. 

For once, Voldemort could empathise with her. As a young student, fresh at Hogwarts in a house surround by such privilege, he had been struck with envy at the respect and influence his peers could command with just their names. The injustice, that they should be seen as superiors through no achievement of their own. His first year of school had been spent hauling himself up the ladder of respectability with genuine accomplishment whilst his pureblood colleagues floundered in their work, unconcerned with failing as positions of power were already waiting for them to finish school. 

Instead of expressing any kind of sympathy, he pulled out his wand, smirking when she recoiled and summoned one of the spare wands he kept. 

“Have you ever cast an unforgivable?”

She shook her head, curls twisting around with the motion, tensing at the direction the conversation was taking. 

“You know the imperious curse? I want you to try it.” He summoned a large glass jar and placed it over a pencil she had left lying out which was then transfigured into a small white mouse. “You know the incantation?”

She nodded again looking paler than usual as she stared mesmerised by the small creature. 

“There is no particular wand movement with this spell, the key lies in the intent. Now try it.”

He handed her the spare wand, smirking when she blanched further. He had forgotten that this particular wand had belonged to her cousin. “Take it.”

With some reluctance she accepted the proffered wand. Her eyes fluttered closed for a few seconds as her hand closed around the wood. His own was held loosely in his grasp, just in case she lost her mind and attempted something stupid. 

“I want you to try it.”

With a steadying breath she pointed the wand at the mouse and whispered _imperio._ Nothing happened. 

“Again.”

Her hand was trembling now, likely at the idea of what may happened if she failed. Her voice quivered as she did the spell again. 

The mouse continued to sniff around the edge of his glass enclosure, oblivious to the curse aimed at him. 

Frustrated at her failure, he needed a way to focus her, he wanted her to succeed. He had always enjoyed teaching, imparting knowledge but rarely had the time or a capable enough student. 

He moved to the end of her bed, resting his hands on the metal bed frame before him. “Obviously you do not intend to succeed. Perhaps there is insufficient motivation for you.”

She chewed her lip anxious, he could sense her own frustration. 

“I am not going to punish you for this failing. I am going to provide the motivation. I want you to perform the spell on me, if you are successful, you can force me to free you. Yes?”

Her eyes practically bugged at his offer and she straightened up, now fully focused on her opportunity. He tried to quash the nervous fluttering in his stomach as she levelled her borrowed wand at him. 

_“Imperio.”_

The spell hit but he felt nothing from it. “Weak. You clearly don’t want to leave at all.”

Another flash lit up the room as she sent second spell, again nothing happened. 

“I thought you were talented. Clearly I was mistaken.”

Again nothing. 

His tone was becoming increasingly scathing. “Pathetic. I don't think you are trying at all.”

She was grinding her teeth now, her brow furrowed in concentration. “ _Imperio.”_

Nothing, he didn't even have to try and throw it off. 

“I can tell you are only a half-blood, only half a Black, you are worthless. Weak.”

Bellatrix hissed in response to this, the flourish of her wand more exaggerated as this time a red spell burst forth. 

He flinched back in response to the sharp pain that jolted him. They stood for a moment in silence, Bella was glaring back at him, unwilling to back down yet. 

“It seems imperius is not your curse.” He waited expectantly and she bit back quickly. 

“You wanted an unforgivable curse.”

With a dry chuckle he shook his head. “Yes, I did. It seems we found something you may be half decent at.”

Her anger had simmered down as reality set in, she dropped the wand into her lap flashing it a look of disgust. 

It was frustrating to him, to see such potential in someone so unwilling. She had outdone his expectations but her reluctance was irritating. He needed to twist her perceptions of right and wrong. 

“Perhaps I need to show you how it’s done.” He raised his wand, laughing when she shuffled back on the bed in a panic before dropping it back down and leaving her alone. For now. 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Bellatrix brought the last of the dinner out to the dining room, carefully arranging everything before him. Severus was supposed to be joining them but had been held up in the school at the last minute. The professor had promised to come to his manor at the earliest opportunity but the Dark Lord wasn’t expecting much. The impromptu lessons had not continued thus far, he wanted to mould her abilities but it had to take a backseat to his more pressing plans. 

She stood patiently in the corner waiting to be called upon or dismissed. “Bring me the elf wine that Lestrange gifted me.”

The dark haired servant scarpered from the room and he tucked into the feast before him. Bella’s cooking skills had much improved since she had first arrived, the promise of excruciating torture motivated her to quickly learn his preferences. He tore into the stringy meat chewing into it suspiciously as he waited for his servants return. 

She poured him a generous serving of the deep red wine. Using his knife he pointed to the meat he had been enjoying. It didn’t look like anything she normally served up.

“What is this?”

“Cat.”

He choked on the small piece he had been savouring, spitting it out onto his plate. With utter shock, he questioned. “What did you say? This? This is cat?”

She straightened up, watching warily but otherwise showed no sign that she had said anything out of the ordinary. “Yes, master.”

He pushed the plate away from him in disgust. “You served me cat?”

Voldemort couldn’t fathom her reasoning. He stood suddenly, his chair scrapping on the stone floor and he levelled his wand at her. Bella took a step back in alarm, her eyes wide. “Y-yes master.”

He cast another glance at the cooked meat as he realised it was obviously from her pet that he had brought back from her home. This mystified him further, how could she be so ungrateful to his act of kindness? Such an act of cruelty, of defiance - he would never have expected it from her. 

“How dare you serve me this?” With a swish of his wand and a flash of red light, she was on the ground screaming in agony. It had been a while since he had to resort to such punishment, he thought she had become more obedient, more loyal. In fact, it seemed it had merely given her enough confidence to act out against him. 

Bella was writhing on the floor, her voice was becoming hoarse from screaming. He stopped the curse after a couple of minutes as his anger faded. He stalked across the room to stand over her, she had begun to cry again, hysterical this time. 

“I don’t understand master.” She gazed up at him, her eyes bloodshot and bewildered. “Please.”

He crouched down beside her and wrapped his hand around her pale throat. She raised her hands but managed to stop herself from trying to tear his hand away. Voldemort was sure he had never been this close to her, he could feel her body trembling beneath his fingers in terror. He squeezed lightly, her breathing became harsh and she rolled her head back as if it would help open up her airway. Now that his ire dissipated, his rational inner voice questioned her motives. He was starting to believe she really didn’t have any malicious intent. She felt so fragile under his hand, one smooth, strong movement and he could snap her neck. Put her out of her misery.

“Am I interrupting, my Lord?”

Voldemort released his servant immediately upon hearing Snape’s heavy drawl. He stood to face the potion’s professor, he hadn’t been expecting him so soon, he hadn’t even heard him enter. They both glanced at Bellatrix as she gasped and cough on the floor. 

“Get out of my sight.” 

He sat back in his chair at the table as she scrambled from the room, barely able to stay on her feet. Pushing the plate further away from himself, he explained to Severus.

“She served me her cat.”

The greasy man frowned in confusion. “My Lord?”

The Dark Lord sighed wearily as he pointed to the now cold food. “For dinner, she served me her cat. She killed, skinned and cooked her pet for me to eat.”

Severus opened and closed his mouth, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t think it was an act of defiance. I am wondering if she believed it was a normal thing to do.”

“You think she’s losing it?”

In all honesty, he didn’t know what to think. Most of the time she was quiet, out of the way, rational. Then every so often she displayed these disturbing behaviours. He knew she had cared for the animal, before she had been captured it had been her most faithful (only) companion. 

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me, blood always outs.”

The younger man didn’t question the remark. “So what are you going to do with her?”

If Voldemort hadn’t known any better, he would have sworn there was a hint of concern in the question. As it was, he didn’t know what he was going to do with her. It struck him that she was beginning to become defective. This was probably only the start of it, it would be almost kinder to put an end to her now rather than draw out her long descent. A smaller part of him considered that she may have acted that way as she believed it was what he expected, that she thought he had only given her the pet as another way to punish her, it would explain her apathetic response to the gift. That she believed this is what he intended for the beast. Nevertheless he brushed it aside, the intention was of no consequence now. 

“That is my concern, Severus. Now that dinner has been so thoroughly ruined, you may as well tell me what news you have and be on your way.”

Snape helped himself to the chair across from his Lord. “Two pieces of news my Lord. Firstly, I saw an artefact left in Dumbledore’s office that I thought would be of interest to you. It seems he has gained possession of Slytherin’s locket.”

Voldemort’s heart stopped for a beat and he felt as someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him. Even though he knew deep down that Regulus had not been lying to him, he had still hoped the locket had ended up in more benign hands. 

“I do not know whether it was the real thing my Lord but judging from the heavy wards and protections Albus has placed on it, he certainly believes it to be genuine.”

It took the Dark Lord a moment to get his mouth working again. “Did it appear in anyway damaged?”

“Not that I could see.”

That was a relief. Voldemort had been worried that with his soul split into several pieces, that he may not even feel if one piece was destroyed. There was a chance that this was still true but it meant there was a slim opportunity to retrieve it.

“What has Dumbledore told you about it?”

“Nothing really my Lord. When he noticed me staring at it, he obscured it from view, told me it was something we could discuss at another time.”

Voldemort hummed in response. He didn’t put much store by hope, but he knew there was still the slimmest chance that Dumbledore didn’t know what the locket actually was. Surely the champion of the light wouldn’t recognise a horcrux?

“You spoke of a second piece of news?”

Worryingly he noticed the younger man stiffen almost imperceptibly. “I’m afraid Albus knows that you have Bellatrix. He does not yet know whether it is against her will or if she joined you but he knows she is at your manor. I am sorry my Lord. He used legilemency on me, I was not expecting it and he caught a glimmer of her. He knows nothing more than that, and I have told him I know nothing else about it and I am forbidden from talking about her.”

A quick glimpse of his own into the younger man’s mind confirmed the veracity of his statements. 

“I expected better from you Severus but there is nothing to be done about that now. You will certainly pay me back for your mistake.”

The potions master barely reacted to the statement, his usual expressionless self but the Dark Lord knew, like all his followers, that he dreaded the idea of punishment. 

“You may leave, I have unfinished business to return to.”

Severus rose and stalked across the room, his robe billowing behind him. He only stopped when he reached the door, his hand frozen on the handle as he turned back curiously. 

“Bellatrix had a pet?”

Voldemort was aware how ridiculous the whole caper had been, he did not need judgement or questions from the younger man. He spoke forcefully, leaving no room for further discussion. 

“Goodbye Severus.”

 

_________________________________________________________

 

Since the incident with the cat, Voldemort had reached a quiet impasse with his servant. He had forgiven her bizarre behaviour, dismissing it as a moment of insanity and they settled back into their easy routine. After all the Dark Lord had far more important things to worry about. 

He smirked as he read the headline of the daily prophet, ‘Deputy minister arrest for wife’s death’ sprung out at him. A large photo of a dishevelled man trying to hide his face under the top of his shirt covered the rest of the front page. He placed the newspaper down on the breakfast table before him, his plate scrapping against the wood as he pushed it away from him. He had decided he would have his morning tea in his bedroom, the bright late winter sun was streaming in through the long windows, lighting the room up. Bellatrix was busy fussing over his bedsheets, making up the large opulent bed. 

Just as he sighed in boredom, about to dismiss the woman from his room so he could dress properly, a blinding pain hit him. Lightening down his spine, that made him crumple instantly. It was as though he was being split in two, each side of him ripped apart as excruciating pain made him want to tear his own skin off. As horrific as the pain was, it was the desperate feeling of wrongness that distressed him the most. It was so similar to the harrowing, unnatural process of making a horcrux.

Eventually it ceased, he had no idea how long it had gone on but his vision returned. He was on the floor, the table and chair had been knocked to the ground beside him. The last of the tea was soaking into the thick carpet. He could taste something metallic in his mouth and he realised he must have bitten his tongue. 

Voldemort knew what had happened, the reason a lingering coldness, an emptiness had settled behind his chest. His horcrux had been destroyed. Dumbledore had finally figured out what the locket was and how to destroy it. At least he prayed it was Dumbledore, he couldn’t bring himself to even fathom that it may have been another horcrux that had been found and destroyed. His immortality was no longer secure and for the first time since he was a child, he felt the icy cold grip of fear clutching at him, threatening to drown him. 

He flinched when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder and looked up to see Bellatrix crouched over him. She must have rushed over when he had fallen; he cringed to think he may have been screaming. Realising how close she was, she tried to crawl back away from him, the concern, pity and curiosity vanished from her eyes. 

Striking out, he grabbed on to her wrist, stopping her from getting away. Sensing the danger she was in, Bellatrix panicked and tried to yank her arm away from him.

The only thing able to smother out the terror threatening to engulf him, was the simmering rage. Directed at Dumbledore for destroying his soul, himself for allowing this to happen and Bella, for her mere proximity, for the flash of sympathy he had seen on her face. 

He rose from the ground, his vice-like grip on her never faltering as he appraised her. Bellatrix seemed to realise this was more than his usual anger as she desperately tried to rip her arm free, grabbing onto the end of the bed frame for leverage. She never usually resisted him, until now she had all but given up on fighting back against him. He knew, with legitimate cause, that she believed she was about to die a most painful death. 

With his other hand he grasped a handful of her hair at the scalp, tugging as she cry out in pain. In retaliation her other arm struck out at him, in his fury he only vaguely felt her nails scratch across his cheek and something warm trickling down the side of his face. 

He spat at her as he shook her. “Bitch.” Her head jarred awkwardly and he heard her teeth snap closed. 

Her knee came up but only brushed his side as he manoeuvred himself, dragging her around the bed. 

“Stop, please just stop.” She tried to brace herself using her weight against the ground but he was much too strong for her. She had become underweight and weak since her stay and it took very little effort for him to just pick her up. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm as she spat and kicked at him like a wild cat. 

Throwing her on the bed, her long nails caught him across his forearm, tearing it open. Perhaps finally realising his intention as he half climbed on top of her to hold her still, she started screaming and thrashing below him in full blown panic. He struck a blow across her face in an attempt to quieten her, which seemed to stun her into silence momentarily. 

He reached down to slide a hand along her leg, caressing the smooth, soft skin further up until he could drag her skirt up. God, he had wanted to touch her like this for so long. His lust threatened to overwhelm his rage, his need to dominate, to ruin her. She had been dangled in front of him for months now, the ultimate temptation. She was a distraction and he  needed a taste, he needed to give in to get over his fascination. He needed to break her, as he had just been broken.

“Don’t do this.” The words were spat out through ground teeth as she tried to wriggle away from his exploring, probing hand.

“I can do anything I want, you fail to realise, you are  _mine._ ”

In that moment he wanted to destroy her, to permanently break her. So far, despite the trauma she had suffered at his hands, she still survived. He no longer wanted to show restraint, his desire needed outlet. He forced himself between her legs, felt her body taut and tense below him. 

With a quick, violent thrust he forced his way into her, the sensation almost enough to block out the sound of her mournful, pained wail. With a heavy grunt he continued, burying his face into the crook of her neck, trying to ignore her silent tears. It was difficult initially, but with each thrust, her body seemed to adapt to him, even as she quietly sobbed. She was divine, the taste of her skin and feel of her body drove him mad and it didn’t take him long to finish.

His rapture slowly trickled away as he recovered himself, by now she had become completely limp. He was acutely aware that he had ripped down the top of her shirt at some point and had been grasping onto her breast. Bella was staring blankly at the wall, her face red and raw from crying and his previous blows. 

He clamoured off her, his fear and despair returning to him now that he had alleviated some of his rage. This had been an inevitable result of his frustrations. The silent, distraught woman merely curled over on her side away from him, moving slowly as if to avoid drawing his attention again. As if every movement was agony. He heard her whisper woefully, “I just want to go home.”

With a final huff of annoyance he left her there, apparating away to Malfoy manor. It was essential he protect the remaining pieces of soul. 

 

_______________________________________________________________________

 

For two days, Voldemort had not seen his servant. He had been distracted by his own preparations but he was well aware that Bellatrix was avoiding him. Not just avoiding him, if the house duties had not still been completed, he would have been certain she had escaped. 

He couldn’t blame her, not after what had happened. It had been a terrible lapse in judgement on his behalf, he could see that now with hindsight. He had been uncontrollable and she had simply been the closest thing he could take out his rage on. The problem was, he now required her. 

The Dark Lord dumped the two small bags that he had spent the day packing in the atrium before searching for his servant. A quick spell indicated she was in the manor, not wandering the perimeter of his home. It was most likely she was hiding from him in her room. 

As he silently climbed the stairs to her room, he felt a seed of anxiety settle low in his stomach. It was disconcerting, he could barely explain it and didn’t want to spend anytime analysing the feeling. He pushed the wooden door open, a loud creak signalling his presence. 

Bellatrix froze instantly, she had been standing over the bed, laying her night clothes out neatly. She looked utterly exhausted.

“Bellatrix.” He spoke to try and get her attention but she seemed paralysed by fear. He strode into the room, rounding the bed. She stumbled back away from him, too terrified to look at him but whimpering under her breath. 

“Please, no.”

It stopped him in his tracks when he realised she believed he was back for round two. She had managed to back herself between the wall and the bed. He took a steeling breath as he understood this wasn’t something she would just accept, that she could simply move past. He had wanted to break her, to own her completely but now he had a need for her. She would be useless in her current state. He didn’t need to look into her mind to see the misery, fear and humiliation she felt. He wouldn’t look into her mind, he couldn’t bare such overwhelming emotions.

She quailed as he lurched forward, grasping her arm and pulling her towards him. The desperate horror on her face no longer gave him pleasure. She gave a gut-wrenching sob as he raised his wand towards her. 

“Stop.”

_“Obliviate_.”

Her face instantly became slack, the fear sliding away and her eyes completely misted over for several seconds before they cleared. When they came back into focus, her eyes darted to his wand in alarm. 

“Master?” 

Her voice was surer than it had been. He was relieved she remembered her obedience, memory charms were a tricky thing and he preferred to avoid them on more valuable assets. He released her arm and took a step back away from her. 

“We are leaving now, gather all your belongings and bring them downstairs.”

She nodded in confusion before looking around at her meagre possessions in a daze. He decided to leave her to it, likely she would need a few minutes to return to her wits. 

Voldemort waited in the entrance hall, watching impatiently as she carried an armful of clothes and a couple of personal items down the stairs, trying to look over her small load to prevent herself from taking a tumble. 

She bowed her head when she finally reached him and he picked up the first item of clothing in her small pile. It was one of her thin silky shirts. He dropped it back down with a hint of disdain. 

“These will not do.”

The black haired woman frowned uncertainly, after all he had given her the clothing. She noticed the bags at his feet but was smart enough not to comment. 

“I am going away, I have decided you will accompany me. These clothes are inappropriate.”

He had spent a lot of time deliberating whether it was wise to bring her with him. The Dark Lord had always preferred to do everything alone, he didn’t require any assistance but the idea of leaving her behind for what could end up being as much as couple of months made him feel very uncomfortable. 

With a flick of his wand, he summoned her cloak and transfigured it with ease. The black cloak was layered inside with thick fur. 

“Put your things in that bag.” She quickly obeyed him and when she stood again he handed her the heavy cloak. “I suggest you put it on now.”

Bellatrix took the black cloak off him, swinging it covering her shoulders. The material swallowed her and he reached out to adjust the collar into the right place. She didn’t flinch as he had expected her to.

“I have something for you. Where we are going will be dangerous, I have a purpose that does not include looking after you. Therefore, I am returning this to you.”

He pulled out her wand from his other sleeve. It was a curious thing, so rigid and with such a crook in it. Bellatrix looked astounded, he could see her hand twitching at her side as she itched to just grab it straight off him. He almost admired her restraint, it was quite a cruel thing, for a witch to be separated from her wand.

“My wand?” 

“Yes, it has a number of extremely powerful spells on it to bind the magic that you can use it for. These can only be undone with the use of another wand.”

She clutched it gratefully to her chest, unshed tears in her eyes, for once not caused by pain. It had taken him a long time to decide whether giving it back to her was a good idea. She was a strong witch but to take her along with him, she had to be of use. He couldn’t afford a liability. Bella was under his control, even with magic he doubted she would dare to challenge him.

“Thank you.” Her voice was breathy as she gazed down at her wand in wonderment. 

He cleared his throat to get her attention. “Take a bag.” 

 Keen to obey him, now that she had her wand, she lifted a hefty bag. Within seconds he had grasped her other wrist and they apparated with a loud pop.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

It had been an arduous journey and they were only at the base of the vast mountain range. They had been trekking through the forest and had just found a flat area of land shrouded by dense trees. The Accursed Mountains in Albania were dangerous, even for magic folk who understood the real terrors lurking in the depths but the Dark Lord was sure it held the treasure he desired. 

“Assemble the tent, it’s in your bag.” He walked away from his servant as she rifled through her backpack, to the edge of the clearing and began to place wards. It was unlikely that anybody would come across them, muggles tended to stay in their own safer region and wizards were smart enough to stay away entirely. It was the magical creatures that haunted the forests that he was more worried about.

By the time he had finished tracking the perimeter, the small tent had been set up and Bellatrix had disappeared inside. The sun was low in the sky and the last of the light was rapidly fading. He climbed inside, unsurprised that the interior was much larger than it appeared from the outside, larger than a typical muggle tent but nothing compared to what he knew the likes of the Malfoy’s would use. Voldemort only needed something basic to serve his purpose, such grandeur made him uncomfortable and had the potential to distract.

Bella was shuffling around the small kitchen area, acquainting herself with the equipment available. Her wand was still grasped in her hand, she had not put it away since it was returned to her. 

“There are some food rations in the bag as well. Put something on.” He shook off his heavy cloak, the cool air biting at him and hung it up near the entrance. He noticed Bellatrix had placed her sturdy walking boots there and decided to do the same. He headed to the small table behind her and threw his bag down on it carelessly, the contents protected by numerous spells. With a flick of his wand, a fire burst into life in the fireplace before him. It wouldn’t take long for the tent to warm up and he started pulling items out of the bag including his maps and old letters. 

He had located two possible sites but with no way to determine which it was more like to be, they would have to visit both. Pouring over the ancient maps he reminded himself that the first site was closer and positioned in a lower valley near a large lake, it would not take long to reach as long as they took no detours. If the diadem wasn’t there, they would at least be able to stock up on food. 

Bellatrix placed an empty plate and cutlery before him and a large bowl of pasta. She turned back to clear up as he started to serve himself. He watched her flick her wand enthusiastically, the utensils flying to the sink to be scrubbed. It was clumsy magic, he wasn't sure if it was the effect of his own magic on her neutered wand or if she was just lousy at housekeeping spells in general. 

“Bring me another plate.”

Frowning she handed one to him and was surprised to see him dish up a small portion of the pasta. “You need to eat as well.” 

He slid the plate across the table to the other empty seat and raised his eyebrow at her expectantly. With some obvious trepidation she sat down and nibbled at the food with deliberate caution. He watched her for a moment, it was strange to see her do something so normal. In all the time she had been with him, he had never seen her sit down and eat before him. 

They ate in silence, the fire crackling next to them before Bella cleaned up after them. His joints were becoming stiff, he wasn’t used to such physical exertion and he was sure he would sleep well tonight. Which raised a few issues in itself. 

When Bellatrix had finished clearing up she stood awkwardly by the sink, rubbing her hands wish the dishcloth, her wand now tucked into her messy up-do. It was clear she didn’t know what to do with herself now, she had no place to retreat to. 

It wasn’t late but they had to get up at sunrise to get the most out of the day so he put the fire out, using a candle to move to the sleeping area. 

“Come with me.” 

His command left no room for disagreement and Bella followed obediently as he left the common room and rounded the corner to an open sleeping area. It was literally a low wide area, a mattress set into the ground almost the size of a king-sized bed surrounded by the three walls. It had been sufficient when he had been travelling alone and a glance at his servant made it clear she was very nervous about the situation. He wondered briefly if she still had a vague sense of what had happened, of what the memory charm was supposed to have removed. 

“Sleep. We have to get up in a few hours.”

He transfigured his outfit into night clothes, too exhausted to bother to actually change. Bellatrix was still frozen to the spot, warily eyeing the bed space. 

“I am putting that candle out in two minutes, I suggest you get into bed before that.” When she nervously pulled her nightdress out of her bag, he sighed heavily. “Change in the kitchen area if you want. Tick, tock.”

She hurried out of the room as he clambered into the bed, there was more than enough room, four people could sleep comfortably in the space. When she returned, he was still sat up waiting for her. She self-consciously tugged on her nightdress before cautiously climbing under the covers, as far away from him as she could possibly get. He noticed she had brought her wand with her.

Bellatrix was tense and he doubted she would be able to sleep easily in such a state. He was not feeling entirely comfortable himself, he knew she would never dare to do anything to him during the night but he still wasn’t going to take that chance. That, coupled with the events of a few days ago made the whole situation very strange. 

Too tired to do anything else, he silently summoned the potion he knew was in his bag. 

“Drink this, it will help you sleep and you will be more refreshed in the morning.” He handed her the sleeping potion. 

Bella stared at it for a few seconds, he could practically hear the thoughts, the suspicions buzzing around her head. Exasperated with how long it was taking, he added simply. “If you don’t drink it, I will just petrify you, you can stay frozen all night instead.”

Her eyes widened at the thought before she quickly unscrewed the lid and gulped it down in one go.  He took the empty bottle off her, returning it to the bag and watched as she slowly lowered herself onto the pillow, already struggling to keep her eyes open. He waited a few seconds until her breathing was soft and even, before snuffing the candle and laying down for sleep himself. 

He had only managed to sleep for a few hours when he was disturbed by a howling wind and beating rain outside. It was disorientating to wake in a new bed. The Dark Lord only remembered where he was when he rolled onto his side and saw the dark outline of another person. His heart skipped a beat in alarm before he realised who it was. 

She was completely out, the potion working its magic even with the noise outside. Just to be sure, he reached out and her gave a rough poke to the shoulder. She remained limp, her head lolling to the opposite side, so he turned to lay on his back and tried to zone out the blustery weather. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Voldemort woke with a start, disorientated as he looked around the tent. The half-light lit up the interior and he glanced over to his sleeping partner who was still completely out. It was strange as he had gotten so used to her being up and having everything already done for him. He clambered out of the bed, making his way across the tent to peek outside to ensure area was undisturbed. Reassured, he headed back to Bellatrix.

He could easily fix a meal for himself but he refused to let his servant off easily, making his way to the bedroom he sent a  small jet of water at her. She gasped at the soaking before groaning and trying to roll over back to sleep. 

“Up now Bella. We need to be moving soon.” He watched as she groaned and slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position. Her hair had mostly fallen out of her undo by now and she had a line down one cheek where her face must have been lying on a seam. She rubbed her eyes groggily and he realised as she climbed clumsily off the bed that the potion had perhaps been a bit strong for her. 

“Sorry master.” She apologised as she just about stifled a yawn, cautiously wandering past him into the kitchen area. It didn't take long for the irresistible scent of food to waft through and he joined her at the table for breakfast.

After he had his fill and Bellatrix had finished off her smaller portion, he disassembled the tent and they started their trek again. The walk was almost entirely done in silence, he led the way through the dim forest as his servant followed, the sounds of their boots, the crackling of twigs under them and the occasional hoot from an owl were the only sounds for most of the day. 

By lunchtime they had made it to another clearing at the entrance to a beautiful, deep valley. Bellatrix had fully woken now and was curiously observing the dense forest behind them. Seeing nothing untoward, he watched her for a few moments as she seemed to deliberate before he finally gave in. 

“What are you looking at?”

She whipped around to face him, holding her hand above her eyes to shield them from the bright winter sun behind him. “I’m just looking at the large gaps in certain parts leading into the forest, a few of these trees have been knocked down. I think there is something else living around here.”

He saw it now that she had pointed it out, tall trees ripped out by their roots to clear a path. Nature alone could not have done this. His eyes rapidly darted around their current position but he saw nothing untoward. 

“Giants. There must be at least one close by.”

Bellatrix nodded in agreement, she had obviously already come to the same conclusion. He had never heard of giants living in Albania, certainly never this far south. Unless it was a lone giant, one that had been excommunicated and had fled rather than be killed. 

The problem was, they had little choice but to continue their same path. Giants could cover a massive area, there was no guarantee that it was anywhere close and it would likely add at least a couple of days to their journey to walk around. 

“Stay alert. Come on.”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened in alarm when she realised they were sticking to their path, she didn’t argue though and followed behind him through the rocky ravine. 

His feet were starting to ache as they continued on, the sun sitting lower in the sky by now. They had been trekking for hours, he could hear Bella struggling to keep up behind him. He was surprise how well she had been doing considering up until a few days ago she had barely been allowed out of the house and had been half starved. He didn’t fail to notice the amount of times she had been yawning, considering he knew she had been sound asleep all night, he knew it must have been long lasting effects of the sleeping potion he used. 

“Lets stop for a little while, have some food.”

With relief she dumped her bag on the wet ground before crouching down to rifle through it. He sat down on a large rock, dropping his own bag down and smoothing his hair back off his face. Her hair practically shimmered in the low winter sun as he watched her summon food for them out of the backpack, she usually never left it down and he had never realised how thick and long it was. 

The serene quiet was broken by a large flock of birds flying overhead, squawking loudly as they passed. Both of them watched the birds, as if mesmerised before an even louder thunderous roar drew their attention. Bellatrix snatched up her bag immediately, stumbling back as an enormous rock broke away from the steep edge of the valley beside them. Voldemort stepped back cautiously, joining her as they watched the rock come towards them, their wands at the ready. Except, it wasn’t a rock, it was a great leathery giant. 

It stumbled around sluggishly for a second before it spotted them. It’s small beady eyes narrowed on them and he heard Bella gasp beside him. 

“Who are you?”

His voice was a deep baritone and gruff as if it wasn’t used very often. He used the small bramble tree in his hand to reach around and scratch his back as he watched them with stupid curiosity. 

With a subtle sonorous spell he responded. “I am the Dark Lord.”

Grunting back the giant concluded. “From Britain. Why you here?”

Voldemort had been hoping to avoid this line of questioning, giants were easy to bore and notoriously stupid. If they felt confused, violence was usually their simplest response. 

“Looking for treasure. What’s your name?”

The giant scratched his temple with a filthy finger as he seemed to concentrate. “Treasure? Hmm. I am Golab, son of Gibborim.” He said the last part with pride. 

“Are you alone, Golab?”

Golab frowned, his big bushy eyebrows half covered his eyes. It was not a good thing to upset a giant.

“I am alone now. Gibborim died and I was sent away.”

He understood now, his father had likely been the Gurg. When he died, a rival had taken over and staying would have meant a certain death for the giant. 

“Who is that?”

Golab pointed a thick finger at Bellatrix who took a further step behind her master. 

“This is Bella. She is a witch.”

The giant’s face completely changed as large, ugly, chipped and browning teeth were suddenly on display as he smiled. 

“You both do magic.”

Voldemort really didn’t have the patience for these types of conversations. With a sigh, he agreed. “Yes, we do magic. Now we need to pass through the valley.”

Golab seemed to be in a world of his own as he concentrated. “I can get you through. If I have your magic I can go back. Let’s go.”

With no more warning than that, he lunged forward and grabbed the pair of them in a hand each. The dimwitted giant had been smart enough to grab them around the middle, trapping their arms and with that their wands. He vaguely heard Bellatrix shrieking on the other side of the mammoth creature holding them but was much too concerned with his own fury and indignation to much to care. 

“Put me down now.” 

Golab ignored him as he bumbled through the valley at an uneven pace. “I will take you home. Magic will help and then you can go through the valley.”

The Dark Lord wriggled awkwardly to try and dislodge him wand arm out of the giant’s tight grip. The last thing he wanted to do was get carried for hundreds of miles to more giants, he was on a tight schedule already. His efforts were to no use. 

Despite Voldemort’s objections, they stopped only when the sun had started to set. Golab dumped them unceremoniously onto the ground. Bellatrix scampered across the ground, collecting her dropped bag. He had only just realised that he had left behind his own bag when he had been grabbed. Before he had a chance to say anything to her, the giant shoved him hard to force him to sit on his other side. 

It was smart of the giant to separate them, their magic was ineffective against the large creature, especially when used alone. Golab had settled himself heavily on the ground before grabbing a hold of Bellatrix again. “Witch, you need to make fire.”

He pointed to the ground before them and Bella obliged immediately, a warm fire bursting into life. It offered the pair of them little in the way of warmth. In the settling darkness, the temperatures had started to plummet. 

With no acknowledgement, the dark haired woman was dumped back down. She settled herself down to sit on a log to watch as the giant pulled out a dead goat that had apparently been in his back pocket all day. He held it by the horn above the fire, the sizzling of hair and dead flesh producing an acrid smoke. 

Before it could possibly have had a chance to cook, the giant lifted it up again and in one simple movement, ripped it in half. Bella looked as if she was trying to suppress a gag as they watched Golab chew into the bloody, rotten carcass. Blood was dripping down before them as Voldemort frowned in distaste. He had his wand now but it was little use against giants. They were impervious to magic, it would require a small army of wizards to bring one down. 

Instead he would have to try and out smart the stupid creature, this could be tricky though. If Golab felt he was being mocked, or even became confused, he was sure to act out with extreme violence.

As he deliberated his next move, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, glancing over just in time to see Bellatrix had stood and aimed her wand at Golab. He almost shouted out at the woman, believing she was stupid enough to send a spell at the enormous creature, she would be slaughtered in a second. 

He just had enough time to react as he realised her intent, an explosive spell aimed at the cliff wall just behind the giant. The ugly thing paused from eating the messy carcass, a gormless expression on his face as the rock behind him cracked and splintered. Heavy boulders and shards rained down on them, Voldemort just had time to attempt to protect himself from the onslaught. The noise was near-deafening, a constant roar as rock and dust surrounded him. Only a powerful protective charm prevented him from being crushed. 

It seemed to take an age before the thunderous noise settled. He couldn’t see anything beyond his magic, the rocks had sealed him in entirely. Using a similar but less powered spell than Bella had used to cause the tremendous landslide, the rocks entombing him were blasted away. Relieved to be able to breathe fresh air again, he clambered up and out to see the extent of the damage.

Bellatrix was close by, levitating rocks away stopping only when she saw him. She was relatively clean, it appeared she had managed to escape the worst of the collapse. Golab was nowhere to be seen. Presumably he was buried under the massive mound of huge boulders and sheets of hard rock. 

“Master.” Bellatrix was breathless as she called out to him, he nodded reassuringly toward her. It was unnerving that she seemed practically relieved to see him. 

“I didn’t mean for you to be crushed. I just knew we had to get away or we would have been after the goat.” 

He waved her suggestion of his vulnerability away. “It was a good idea, I am of course unhurt.”

They half climbed, half slid down the huge mound of loose rock. 

“It is nearly dark, we have to move quickly now, it would be unwise to stay here.”

She gave a sharp nod in agreement as they made their way further through the valley, a simple lumos lighting the way. He was reluctant to use the spell, it felt more like a beacon for other creatures to spot them. Luckily, it wasn’t long before they happened upon a dark cave. 

“In here, set up, I’ll secure it. You still have the tent?”

Bella nodded, opening up her bag. With _lumos maximus_ he lit up the cave, ensuring there was nothing else sharing the cavern with them. Reaching the end of it, he started casting protective spells, enclosing them in. When he walked back, the tent was set up again. He climbed in, pleased to smell food being prepared. 

“Master…” Bellatrix seemed reluctant to continue. “The food… most of it was in your bag.”

He only just suppressed a growl as he realised she was right. Not only was most of their food missing, but all of his belongings were gone too. 

“Ration it for now.”

She gave a simple nod, he knew she had already started that. “And the giant?”

“Is unlikely to be dead. It takes an awful lot to kill a giant, it won’t take him that long to get out. We will have to be more careful.” 

He watched her as she served up, her wand tucked into her tied up hair, yet again. The magic she had displayed concerned him, it had worked to their advantage but he hadn’t expected her to be able to perform such devastating spells with the restrictions on her wand. It made him doubt that his magic had bound the wand enough but he didn’t want to draw her attention to this, if she believed she couldn’t perform advanced magic, she was unlikely to attempt it. Wandlore had never been his strength. 

She cautiously sat down at the table opposite him, watching for any sign of disproval. He split the food between their plates, hers only half the size of his own. 

“That was good thinking, what you did back there.” He was reluctant to compliment her, “It was fortunate you didn’t freeze with fear.”

“I have more to fear than giants.” Her response was quick, given without much thought.

“Indeed.” He paused to watch her for a moment, she only glanced up from her food when she sensed his gaze. 

“Is there _anything_ you fear?” It was half whispered and Bella appeared to regret the question as soon as she said it.

The question gave him enough pause to stop him from punishing her instantly. He had never considered that he might fear something, the idea seemed completely alien to him. He pictured his servants, his victims, as he punished them and the sight of them as they feared pain. Not only pain though. The thought made chills run down his back: they feared death. 

The permanence of it, the decay of life, the way the world just forgets an entire existence. He had always felt he was too important to be forgotten, it was impossible for him to imagine a world where he did not exist. The idea of mortality made his skin crawl and his heart beat faster, a pit of dread blooming low in his stomach… was this what fear felt like?

“No, there is nothing I fear.”

The rest of the meal was finished in silence, she was obviously aware she had reached his limits for civil conversation. “Clean up and go to sleep. Give me your bag before you go.”

She made sure to remove her nightclothes before giving him the bag and retiring to bed. There were no more potions to force her to go to sleep and he rather she was already out when he went to bed. There was very little in her bag, she kept the tent and a portion of their food. The rest of her supplies were limited to some clothes and a few simple potions. He no longer had a map. Voldemort was confident enough to negotiate his way through the forest and mountains, he had spent far too much time memorising the map but he remained concerned. The artefact had been missing for centuries, many had already sought it to no avail, a map would have offered some small assurance. 

Ensuring everything was securely returned to the bag, he brought it with him to leave at the end of the bed so they could always grab it in the event of a rapid escape. Bellatrix was completely out, her gentle snoring indicating deep sleep. Using wand light, he settled into bed, the movement and light disturbing his bedmate. She turned in his direction before curling in on herself slightly, returning to her deep sleep.

The light faded and he lay there on his back uneasily. For the second night in a row he struggled to get to sleep. He drifted in and out of disturbed sleep, strange twisted dreams haunting the little rest he got. 

After what could have been only mere minutes or several hours later, he jolted to consciousness. He felt as if he hadn’t been asleep at all but he must have been as he hadn’t noticed the distressed whimpering very close beside him. 

He could just make out the outline of Bellatrix beside him and automatically reached out to her. His hand landed on her neck, stroking around to her hair, to rub soothingly. The sorrowful noises ceased and he knew she had woken when he heard a small gasp. 

She tried to pull back against his hand before realising the attempt was futile. 

“Stop. Relax.”

Doing as commanded, he felt the tense muscles in her neck ease. It was obvious she was trying to see him in the dim light, the noise of her slight shuffling under the thin duvet was exaggerated. 

“Come here.” Not giving her a choice, he pulled her head towards him and let her rest it in the crook of his arm. “You need to sleep, we have to be up early.”

When she opened her mouth to speak, he shushed her softly with finality. He placed his hand over her eyes, ensuring she would have to sleep, her eyelashes fluttering against his palm  Her body was still angled away from him, he was almost sorry he hadn’t brought her closer but he knew that would be a mistake. 

She may have very little understanding of what had happened but he knew. He couldn’t forget how he utterly lost control, it wasn’t a situation he wanted to be in again. 

It couldn’t have been long that they were lying like that but he wasn’t sure, he drifted off to sleep almost instantly. 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

Fortunately when he woke again they had separated, Bellatrix had turned over in her sleep away from him. He was disorientated for a moment by the lack of light before remembering they had set up inside a cave. A quick spell indicated the sun would be rising and they needed to get a move on.

Bella though still sleeping, seemed to sense his movement and sprung up suddenly in alarm. He watched her in amusement as her gaze flitted anxiously in his direction before she climbed out of the bed taking her clothes with her. Gathering himself up slowly he followed her into the kitchen area eating the small breakfast that had been prepared. 

It took them very little time to set out again, the air frigid as the dim light started to creep above the forest around them. It was a laborious slog, clambering through the uneven terrain, the icy wet weather making every step that much more difficult. 

By midday Bella was starting to flag, he noticed she stumbled more on the rocky crags and it took longer for her to recover herself. He knew she would never complain out loud but they were never going to make much progress if he didn’t stop. He had been planning for a while to find some shelter for lunch, there was no point setting up the tent just for a short break but they came across another solution. 

The sheer rock of the mountain edge to their side was clearly the site of an old structure. A giant facade had been carved into the rock, the opening to a large fortress within, guarded on either side by colossal statues. The faces of these enormous beings had been eroded by time and foul weather, magical, creeping plants had burrowed their way into the ancient stone. 

They approached cautiously, as they neared it became apparent that the stronghold within had utterly collapsed. Bellatrix was preoccupied trying to look at the interior whilst he traced the words and runes written underneath the giant carvings. He was so engrossed he hadn’t noticed Bella come up beside him until she spoke.

“Do you know what it says?”

He scanned the vaguely familiar symbols and letters again, bits of them disintegrated over time. “Beware those who approach, though sands of time shall pass, you will know my name, you will see my power, you shall feel my wrath.”

He looked up to face Bella, her face tight and nervous. “My command of the language is not perfect, it’s a rough translation.” He was annoyed that he felt the need to explain himself but there was something about the words that set him on edge. 

She pointed to a word at the bottom. “I recognise that, from the old history books. It’s a name, the ruler of an ancient magical empire. He must have been based here, I don’t remember too much about it. I guess it’s all been forgotten over time. This place has completely disintegrated.”

“Yes, I have noticed.” She retreated at his sharp tone. It gave him a chance to look up at the wondrous and eery old monuments to an entire empire that had been wiped out. 

There was nothing for them here. 

“Fifteen minute break, have a snack if you need before we start moving again.”

Another few hours later found them beginning their ascent over the mountain range, they needed to get over them to reach the lake he knew was hidden in their heights. His dark haired companion was breathless at the sudden change in incline and her hair had become ridiculously frizzy due to the light drizzle that had been present all day. 

He was starting to tire as well, his clothes, thick against the cold, were starting to weigh him down. Just as he started to look ahead for any possible convenient place for them to stop for the night, the sky was illuminated as a bolt of lightening streaked across the sky. It was followed almost simultaneously by two more flashes of light before an almighty crack seemed to spilt the sky above them and rain poured down. 

The Dark Lord looked back toward his servant, clearly visible despite the rain as the sky lit up again and gestured for her to follow after him, his voice lost in the cacophony. He clambered up the steep edges looking for a wide flat ledge that was in some way sheltered. Rocks and mud had started to become loose from the downpour and he had to stop to help pull his companion up behind him as the ground was falling away beneath her.

It didn’t take long for him to find a more or less suitable place, the horrific weather conditions preventing him from being picky. He left Bellatrix to try and get the tent up as he set up some rudimentary protective charms, he spend very little time on this, more concerned with stopping the tent from being blown away. 

He practically ran after Bella into the tent, relieved to be out of the downpour. He glanced at her, absolutely sopping wet, her hair hanging down her face and clothes dripping water all over the floor. He knew he was in a similar state and started peeling off his robes, pausing only to light a small fire before continuing. 

His servant was watching him nervously and he noticed she was already shivering. “You need to take your clothes off, get in front of the fire.”

Moving with her, he dumped his robes where they fell, she could look after it later. By the time he had stripped down to his underwear, the heat from the fire had started to dry him off. Bellatrix was still nervously removing the drenched clothing, underneath her robes her thin black dress was absolutely stuck to her and she seemed to be having difficulty peeling it off as she was shivering too much to undo the buttons at the back. 

With a long suffering sigh he flicked his wand and the whole back split open revealing her porcelain skin beneath. Startled, she seemed to realise that after taking off the dress she would have very little else on.

“Don’t worry, you have nothing of interest to me.” He faced the fire, gazing into the flickering flames to give her a semblance of privacy. Following a number of shuffling sounds he turned to her and saw she had managed to grab a thin white cotton nightdress from her bag. To be honest, it really didn’t hide much more and she seemed aware of this as the blush on her cheeks seemed to spread down her neck. 

The awkwardness was broken when she jumped, a louder crack of thunder splitting the sky, reminding them of the storm outside. A freezing gust of wind tore through the tent causing the fire to splutter for a moment before roaring back into life.The chill made him aware that he really needed to get some clothes on again.

“Make something quick, we can eat it here in front of the fire.” It was too cold for the formality of sitting at the small table and the physical exertion and the cold had made him ravenous. 

There was only one spare robe in the bag, it was an old one of his own that had been packed for Bellatrix who had none of her own suitable clothes for the trip. He took it anyway, wrapping it around his shoulders and settled down onto the floor. He leant back on the old threadbare armchair that still had a couple of ominous stains despite the use of strong cleaning spells. He was disturbed by the weather, he knew the area was prone to cataclysmic storms but he couldn’t afford to be delayed in his quest. Every day he was stuck in the mountains was a day he wasn’t there to lead his servants or protect his horcrux’s. 

After only a few minutes a bowl of steaming soup was handed to him and Bella joined him on the floor directly in front of the fire. He noticed her shiver as a draught blew in from outside, ruffling through her damp hair. 

“We should be able to move first thing in the morning but we are going to have to watch out for flooding.”

“Is the tent going to be safe where it is?” Apprehensively she looked to the door. 

“I have put up some protection, it will provide us enough shelter from the storm.”

He noticed when she had finished her soup as her shuddering caused the spoon to clang loudly. With an annoyed sigh, he set down his own bowl, opening out his wide robes. 

“Come here.” He indicated for her to shuffle over. He didn’t want her to continue to freeze, he didn’t need to carry around a liability but there was no way he was given up his gown for her. 

She looked at him sceptically for a moment until he snapped his fingers, making his displeasure at her slowness known. Bellatrix followed his direction and sat next to him, wrapping the end of the robe over her own narrow shoulders, taking great care to leave at least an inch between their arms to avoid his touch despite this barely making her any warmer. Voldemort was surprised she was so resistant to being near him considering the night before. Not for the first time, he considered the effectiveness of his memory charms. 

With a tut he grabbed the end of the robe and wrapped it over her shoulder, pulling her head over to his chest. Considering how she had been trembling, flush against him she felt as warm as the fire. He was surprised how quickly she relaxed and put it down to her physical exhaustion. 

He rubbed her shoulder, the bones felt much more prominent than they should have under his fingers. “You are quite  disgustingly skinny.”

It was said as an aside, with the intent to offend of course. He was sure the remark hurt, most women tended to be preoccupied with their appearance, he doubted Bellatrix was any different. 

He ran a hand experimentally down her damp hair, never before in his life had he ever seen the appeal of a pet. He remembered one of the older boys at the orphanage had a rabbit once, he was a clumsy bully but he doted on the fluffy creature. Young Tom Riddle had never understood how the brutish fool could be so fascinated with the small animal, in an attempt to manipulate the orphan he had the destroyed the thing. He was reluctant to admit at the time that jealousy may also have played a part in the vicious act. 

Now he felt he had a better understanding of it. The quiet, easy companionship, someone whom he could give a modicum of affection when he was in the mood and could be ignored the rest of the time.  They offered up their loyalty so easily, as long as their most basic needs were met. Some food, some shelter and minimal acknowledgement. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bella twirling one of her damp curls around her finger, he could tell there was something on her mind bothering her. He attempted to use legilimency on her, their proximity should have helped but he only managed to find a loose thread of a thought. 

Bellatrix pulled away from him, just enough so she could look up at him curiously. “You want to know my thoughts?”

She was becoming braver, questioning his actions. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

Biting her lower lip, she turned away from him, resting her head back on his chest. “My father.”

Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. “What about him?”

“How he died.” 

He nodded in sudden understanding, he remembered her response to his previous suggestion. “What do you know about it? I want to see.”

Imperceptibly she shook her head. “I can tell you.”

Though he preferred to invade her mind, he was physically and mentally exhausted, it was much safer to hear it in her own words. That was the only reason he acquiesced. 

“I wasn’t there when he died, it wasn’t very long after I left. I only found out about it before it was in the newspaper because Druella owled me. She told me his heart was weak, the stress and heartbreak from losing two daughters killed him. She blamed me.” Her voice caught in her throat as she finished. 

It was strange the things that went on in families, he of course knew the truth of the events surrounding Cygnus’ death. “You remember what I told you before. His death was no accident, his heart didn’t stop because he was in  _emotional turmoil.”_ His words were scathing and he didn’t miss how she tensed beside him. 

“Your mother, sorry — your step-mother was lying. Do you know she had been having an affair for years?”

Bellatrix scowled at this revelation, whether it was in disbelief or at the thought of Druella betraying her father, he wasn't sure. 

“It’s hardly surprising considering your father wasn’t exactly known for his fidelity. He publicly acknowledged you as his daughter. Did you ever wonder why your youngest sister was so different?”

“Wait. You mean she’s…? Who… who was it?”

He smirked cruelly. “I would say you already have a pretty good idea who it was. She had been having an affair with Abraxas Malfoy for many years, even before his wife died.”

“That means…?” She trailed off as she considered the disgusting implications of this. 

“Indeed. She loved him as well, or at least desired for them to be together. Despite how she felt about your father, she would have done anything to be with Abraxas. Forever preoccupied with the family reputation, he told her they could not be together, that he couldn’t betray a friend or be associated with a divorcee.”

Bellatrix was sheet white, more sickly than even was normal for her, it was clear she saw where this was going. 

“She came to me…” 

His dark haired companion pulled away from him, out of the warmth of the robe, to search his face in disbelief for any sign of deception. “No.”

“Yes. She wanted something to get rid of him easily, painlessly, without casting suspicion on herself. Poison was the simplest solution which she gratefully took.”

Bella honestly looked as if she was going to throw up, her eyes began to water and her breathing had become uneven and shallow. He continued anyway; he knew she could handle the truth. 

“No one ever suspected foul play, the Black’s are not known for their longevity. Unfortunately for Druella, her lover was still not interested in any kind of commitment. He had been simply stringing her along, never thinking his promises would ever be put to the test. “

“Oh god.” She groaned, raising a hand to her mouth before trying to clamber up to her feet. She never made it and emptying the contents of her stomach beside her. Giving a distressed, heaving sob she sat back, wiping her mouth. She glanced furtively at him before discretely vanishing the mess with her wand. 

He was surprised by the response, he was aware she was very close with her father, the news was obviously devastating. He had just never expected such a visceral response. 

She continued to gawk at him, disbelief warring with anger. 

“What did she give you in return? What was his life worth?”

He debated for a moment about how honest he should be. “Money. Lots of money and the promise to help deliver me a loyal follower.”

“She helped recruit for you?”

“No, not in the way you are thinking. She used her influence to manipulate her brother and sister in law, she helped bring Regulus to me.”

Bellatrix made a tight choking noise, he was momentarily concerned she was going to throw up again. Her fists were clenched in rage and she practically growled. “I’m going to kill her, let me kill her.”

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at her sudden viciousness. “You really want to kill her?”

She frowned at the question, responding less certainly. “I want to kill her.”  _But I don’t know if I can._ He finished her unspoken sentence. It was a problem for Bellatrix, she had the capability but there was something holding her back. It was more than just a vague sense of right or wrong. If he ever expected her to get past it, he needed to find out the source but he knew tonight was not the time. It was late, they were both exhausted and there was little else to do with the foul weather forcing them to hunker down. 

“I will let you, teach you, when the time is right.” He stood slowly now, pulling the robe up with him. “I should think it is about time we retire, there is little use in becoming focused on things we cannot change. It is too cold, bed shall warm us.” He was too tired to care about the way the statement could be misconstrued. He held out his hand to help her from the ground, she clasped his wrist loosely, using his momentum to get to her feet. They made their way to the bedroom together. 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort huffed out a breath as he paused. His companion pulled up beside him, looking around to try and determine what had caused him to stop. She was caked in mud, the stormy weather last night had made their ascent that much more difficult. 

They had found the lake. It spread out, sparkling under the half hidden sun, craggy mountains borderings its furthest end.  A small stream flowed into the lake and an enormous tree was perched on the bank, almost crumbling into the water. That was the most likely location for an ancient magical item to be hidden in this vicinity.

He made his way to the tree, the trunk was thick and knotted, it had obviously been there for centuries. He ran his hand over the worn, cracked bark feeling for magic. Examining every sinew, every crook, he soon realised this was not the right place. There was nothing here.

The Dark Lord growled under his breath before turning back toward Bellatrix. She was no where to be seen. 

His heart fluttered in anxiety before he willed it to slow, she couldn’t have gone far. He knew she was far too well trained to attempt to run off, he was more worried about other things visiting them. 

“ _You had better go to her quick.”_

Frowning, he glanced down at the ground below him. A small snake slithering around his foot, hissing up at him. “ _She is by the river, I can show you.”_

_“Then show me.”_

He followed the snake as it darted across the grass towards the stream. He could just make out the crouched figure of Bellatrix, her hand was reaching out to the clear, pure water. He ran at her, grabbing a handful of her robes and yanking her back away from the stream. 

She fell back onto the ground, mud splattering in flecks over her robes. “Wha-”

“You stupid woman.” He clenched his fist, just about resisting the urge to hit her. Instead he grabbed her wrist, tugging her and pointing toward the water. 

“What were you thinking? This is no ordinary stream.”

She nervously watched the flowing crystal clear water. “What is it?”

He released her suddenly, she fell back again before slowly standing cautiously. “It is a part of the Lethe. Multiple portions rise up across to our mortal world. One touch of the water and it would take your memories, put you to sleep.” He moved to her, she flinched as he grasped her by the jaw. “ _Permanent_ sleep, it would have taken you to oblivion.”

Her eyes widened in alarm and she strained to look at the water again so he released her. “I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry master, thank you.”

Voldemort moved away from her, his back to her, unable to deal with her gratitude, with his own worry. “You need to be more careful. I may not be inclined to intervene next time you do something so reckless.”

When he turned back to her, she was biting her lower lip, looking like a child that had just been chastised. “How did you know?”

Before he could answer, her expression instantly changed into one of fear as she screeched, stumbling away from him and pointing toward his shoe. 

The same snake had slithered around his feet again, tongue tasting the air. 

“Oh, do calm down. This was how I knew what you were up to. My friend was able to bring me to you.”

She frowned in confusion, her eyes never leaving the snake. 

“ _I appreciate your help, we require further direction, towards the ravin_ e.”

Bellatrix appeared positively alarmed by his hissing but he saw the moment of realisation as she whispered. “You’re a parselmouth, the heir of Slytherin, of course.”

Pleased she had made the connection, he nodded to her as he listened for the snakes response. 

“ _Of course, anything for you. I can take you part of the way, from then you will need another. We will come, we can feel your presence drawing us closer.”_

Without waiting for a response the snake excitedly took off, splitting a track in the longer grass.

“We are being shown the way, hurry.”

Bellatrix quickly grabbed her bag and dashed to catch up with them. They were led around the lake until they reached a dense forest. At that point the snake left them, they were advised to walk in a northerly direction and another would seek them out. 

The dense canopy let little light in so it became darker a lot earlier than he had anticipated. Frustrated that the day had proved fruitless and that they were now relying on the directions of other creatures to find what he was seeking, he stopped and set up their camp. 

He raised numerous protective wards, the dark overgrowth made him nervous - as did the howling that had started up as the darkness settled. When he head back inside the tent, Bellatrix appeared just as anxious. 

“We are safe in here.”

She nodded at his reassurance. “We are almost out of food, I have started preparing what little is left master.”

The day just continued to keep on giving.

“Fine, we will just have to hunt tomorrow.”

Almost imperceptibly her eyebrows rose but she said nothing. He pulled out a scrap of paper as she cooked, jotting down plans for their next destinations. He almost regretted not going back for his bag when they first realised it was missing. 

A small serving of beans and rice was placed in front of him, he noticed her own plate barely had enough to be called scraps. He didn’t offer to share any of his own. 

“There should be just enough for you to have a small breakfast when we wake.”

“Thank you.” He was sure he could see the faintest blush rise up in her cheeks and he promised himself not to say it again. 

Dinner was a sombre affair but at least the meagre portions meant it didn’t last long. He remained seated over his plans as Bellatrix settled in front of the fire, sorting through the contents of her bag. 

It must have been a couple of hours when he finally looked up and noticed she was buried in a book. He frowned, unaware that he had put any books in her bag.

“What are you reading?”

She slammed the book shut when she realised she was caught. “Umm, it’s just something I found in the bag, sorry.”

He rolled his eyes at her apology. “I asked what it was.”

Bella flipped it over in her hands to reveal the title. “It’s  _The Natural History and Geography of Northern Albania_.”

“Anything interesting in there?”

She flicked it back open to the page she had been looking at. “I was just reading the information on different snakes in the region.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, it may be more worthwhile to read about other magical creatures in the area.”

Licking the tip of her finger, she swiftly searched through the chapter. He raised his hand to cease her activity. “That can wait until tomorrow. It’s late and we have more to do, I suggest we retire.”

The suggestion was taken exactly as intended and Bellatrix immediately made her way into the small bedroom area. By the time he followed her, she was already dressed and under the covers. She lay facing away from the other side of the bed, her head resting on her arm. 

He joined her shortly and snuffed out the flickering candle. She managed to fall asleep almost as soon as the light was out. 

The Dark Lord took much longer to settle. He was preoccupied with playing the events of earlier in the day around his head. He had been concerned for her, well more than that if he was being honest with himself. When he had realised she was missing, he was scared for her. He didn’t believe she had attempted to escape, he knew that like a well trained pet, she no longer harboured any thoughts of running away. 

No, he was scared that she had come to harm. He had become used to her presence, her silent, unquestioning companionship. Voldemort was well aware how dangerous this was, he couldn’t be distracted by anything, not even if she was killed. She couldn’t be allowed, not even inadvertently, to have that much control over him. 

With these thoughts running around his head he finally fell asleep. 

He was completely disorientated when he woke, he was aware that it was not yet morning but he couldn’t figure out what had woken him. 

Just as he turned over and noticed his servant was not there, he heard a loud, spine tingling howl which sounded  _very_ close. Grasping his wand, he cautiously climbed out of bed.

In the main sitting area, Bellatrix was pacing erratically, one hand had a white knuckle grip on her wand whilst the other tugged on her thick hair. As she spun around, on reflex she fired off a rapid spell, flinching at the sound of the plates by the sink shatter as he deflected it. 

She was obviously terrified, he recognised it easily enough in her but he was alarmed when she sprung towards him.

“They are outside, they have found us, they can smell us. We have to do something.” She had grasped onto the front of his sleeping shirt, her eyes pleading. She buried her face into his chest with a whimper when another howl echoed around them outside. 

His arms were held up limply as he puzzled over this development, never before had she ever instigated any sort of physical contact between them. 

She pulled back of her own volition and darted across the room, her wand raised high. “If they get in, they'll ravage us and turn us. I don’t want to become one of them.”

Bella, in her frazzled state, started to move the table and chairs towards the door. 

Feeling much too like an uninformed bystander, he finally spoke up.  “What are you doing?"

“Need to stop them from getting in.” She was distracted by the task at hand, allowing him to approach her from behind and place an almost comforting hand on her shoulder. She was shaking like a leaf. 

“Stop. Now.”

She paused at his tone before swivelling around and grasping onto his outstretched arm in desperation. “Those beasts will rip us apart and turn us. We need to stop them getting in.”

Her fear was palpable as she beseeched his help. This fear felt different now that he was no longer the source. 

“Stop.” His tone was more soothing this time and grasping her elbow, he pulled her closer. “They cannot get in. The enchantments and wards expel others, there is no way, not with their primitive magic, that they could ever get in here.”

“But…”

“That’s enough now.” He was much firmer but took care not to be too sharp, he didn’t want to unnerve her further. In fact his words seemed to have the opposite effect. 

Bellatrix stared at him for a second before bursting into hysterical, manic laughter. She practically bent double as she attempted to control herself, when she straightened up there were tears in her eyes. 

“Bella.”

She beamed at him when he spoke her name, it gave him a strange sensation in his chest that he couldn’t place. He was sure he had never seen her genuinely smile before, it was disconcerting. Before he could react, she had rushed at him again, this time wrapping her arms loosely around him and resting her head on his chest. 

“I should have known to trust you, master.”

“Uh, yes.” He patted her on her upper back with great discomfort before gently pushing her shoulders to disentangle them. Her physical closeness was uncomfortable but almost welcomed. But it would do neither of them any good to get used to it. 

Her eyes were glittering with some kind of madness, yet he felt a strange compulsion as he watched her. “To bed now, there is nothing to fear from outside.”

Her dark hair rippled as she nodded her head vigorously, walking toward the bed space as if confounded. He watched her go for a moment, it appeared her mind was definitely unravelling. It may not be a bad thing.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

The trek felt never-ending. Voldemort was becoming increasingly agitated and frustrated as the hours and days ticked on. It was exhausting both of them and on more than one occasion he had considered perhaps something else would be a more effective, or at least make a faster horcrux. There had been no further episodes of bizarre behaviour from Bellatrix, she had more or less returned to her normal subdued self although he kept a much closer eye on her. Such unpredictability could be dangerous on such a journey. 

They were running low on food and his patience was wearing thin. They were closing in on the second location he had considered a high probability. If it wasn’t there, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do. He couldn’t afford to spend much longer cluelessly wandering around the forest but to have spent so much time here already, it would be such a waste to have to abandon it. 

Currently they were sat on a large slate of dry rock as they finished off the small doe that Bellatrix had managed to capture. The weather had finally improved, the bright winter sun beat down on them. His companion was messily wiping her mouth from the succulent meat when he turned to her. 

“How did you learn to hunt?” It was an unexpected skill he had discovered once they had run out of food. 

“My father.” She finished, cleaning her hands off with a dirty rag she had and continued when she realised he was looking for more. “He loved hunting, he was a strong supporter of trying to get the laws changed to hunt creatures with human sentience. I am sure if it hadn’t been so controversial, he would have campaigned to legalise muggle hunting as well. My great-great-grandfather was a champion muggle hunter, back when it was competitive.” She shrugged disparagingly as she continued. “Father only had daughters, I guess because I wasn’t pureblood he didn’t think it would be so bad to teach me more masculine skills. He used to take me out into the forests around our manor…”

She trailed off as her eyes spotted something at the forest edge, watching closely, it reminded him of a hawk hunting its prey. His head snapped around in concern at what could have drawn her attention. She raised her hand slowly and whispered a ‘shh,' he was too alarmed to admonish her. 

Bella slowly shuffled toward him and pointed over his shoulder to something rustling along the forest ground. He spotted it then, a large cat, not like any he had ever seen before. “It’s a lynx.”

“Yes, the Eurasian Lynx, _Lynx balcanicus_ I think _._ ” 

When he looked over his shoulder at her, she shrugged in embarrassment, “I read it in that book.”

Their conversation disturbed the wild creature and it scarpered back into the dense overgrowth. He relaxed back after it vanished, questioning his companion. “I bet you loved care of magical creatures at school.”

She gave a nervous chuckle. “Not really, I mean I thought it was interesting but I didn’t take it on to NEWT level. I preferred to study the subjects I was good at.”

Memories of snooping around her flat came to him. “Potions?”

She distractedly used a twig she had picked up to scratch marks into the slate below them. “I kept it on but it was never my best subject. I preferred more active classes, especially charms and defence against the dark arts.” She smiled to herself as a memory seemed to surface. “I never had patience, even potions could be a challenge. I used to abhor astronomy much to my family’s dismay, all that time just sitting around. My sister enjoyed it, she had this romanticised idea about looking at the memory of things that were long dead.”

“Narcissa?” 

“No, Andromeda.” 

There was silence for a moment before she chucked the twig away into the grass, he could feel her eyes on him, knew she was burning to ask questions. He didn’t need legilimency to know she was curious about his younger days, if he had even attended Hogwart’s. Voldemort did not want her to dwell on these thoughts for long and got to his knees, making it clear they were moving on.

She followed behind him again, so lost in her own thoughts that she actually stumbled into him when he abruptly stopped. Her apologies barely registered and he swatted her away distractedly as if she were a mere fly. His entire attention was locked on a small brick wishing well that he had spotted before them. It had been built into a large hollow of an enormous, ancient tree. 

Even without getting any closer, he knew he had found it at last. The well was old, weeds had crept through the brick work, slowly pulling it apart but it was still intact enough to recognise. Practically running, he approached it, waving his wand in case of protective magic. There was none.

He gripped the edge of the well once he reached it, trying to peer down but even his _lumos maximus_ couldn’t penetrate the darkness to the very bottom. 

“ _Accio_ diadem.” He wasn’t expecting much, which was fortunate as nothing at all happened. 

He stepped back from it for a moment, looking the towering tree up and down, searching the environment around them for some inspiration. Bellatrix was watching curiously, standing at a short distance. 

There was only one idea that came to him. He waved his wand and transfigured a nearby rock into a rope. With a complex swivel, he manipulated one end of it to tie itself around the trunk of another, smaller tree situated a short distance from them. He strode over and grasped the free end, holding it out to his companion. 

“Take this.”

The dark haired woman gaped at him, knowing exactly where this was going. 

“You need to go down there, I will levitate you down but wrap this around your waist just in case.”

It was the only thing that was going to work, magic couldn’t summon the diadem and he was too large (and too unwilling) to go down himself. It was for tasks like this that he even brought her in the first place. 

Instead of doing as commanded, she shuffled toward the gaping mouth of the tree and closer to the well within, peering worriedly down into the darkness. 

“Down there?” Her chest was rapidly rising and falling in fear as she spoke in a breathy whisper.

“Of course down there. Hurry now, the faster you move the sooner it will be over.”

Approaching her, he indicated for her to lift her arms up which she slowly and reluctantly obeyed. He threw the bag she still had to the ground and wrapped the thick cord around her waist, tugging it tightly to ensure it was secure. The force he used caused her to stumble and she grasped onto his arm to steady herself. 

“Please don’t leave me down there.” 

 He grasped her wrist, slowly returning it to her side. “If you do as I ask, I won’t.”

She seemed to believe him and waited as he stepped away again. He took one last deep, steadying breath before waving his wand. Bella rose slowly into the air, clutching onto the rope desperately in an attempt to keep control. He guided her over above the well, she glanced down below her feet briefly before snapping her head back, her eyes firmly squeezed shut.

“Light it up, I want to see as you descend.”

Anxiously she did as she was told, light burst from the end of her wand and with one shaking hand she lodged it into her hair. He began to lower her, just before her head disappeared down, she clasped onto the ledge of wall for dear life with one hand, the other still holding the rope.  

“Please, please I can’t do this.”

With a frown he carefully peeled her fingers back from the wall, concentrating to ensure she was still levitated. “You can. You will be fine. Now look out, tell me when you near the bottom. Or if you see a diadem.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear and begging. With a sigh he promised. “I won’t leave you down there, I need you to get something for me.”

Relaxing at this, she stopped holding on. “I fucking hate small dark spaces.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, he had never heard her swear before, it sounded strange, almost sordid coming from her. Slowly she descended, one hand tracing the wall, the other clutched onto the rope. He understood why she was afraid, he had cultivated in her a sense that he would use any opportunity to torture her. For once, this had proved a disadvantage. Dropping her down into a well wasn’t ideal but this was far too important to even consider her worries. 

The light from her wand got smaller and fainter, it shouldn’t have been possible for the well to descend so far, not without magic anyway.

“Anything?”

Her voice seemed to bounce off the walls, low and echoey. “No, nothing yet.”

He wasn’t sure there was going to be enough rope when she spoke up again. “Wait, I think I’m near the bottom.”

There was a splashing sound as she stopped. “What do you see down there?”

The light was moved around but was too deep for him to be able to see. “Not much. I’m standing in water… I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

Voldemort leaned over the wall. “A diadem, it’s a tiara.”

He could hear the disbelief in her voice. “You mean like the _lost_ diadem?”

Completely ignoring her question, he continued. “If you can’t see it, can you feel any traces of magic?”

All he could hear for a few moments was splashing. “No.. actually yes.”

She didn’t say anything else for a few moments and he wished more than anything he could see what she was doing. “What is it?”

“In the wall, the bricks.” He saw the dim light moving in the distance for a moment before there was a flash of blue light. “It’s like Diagon Alley.”

There was more splashing and the sound of grating stone. “What’s going on?”

The noises continued but there was no response from her for a few minutes until she yelled out in triumph. 

“I’ve got it. There’s something else too.”

He rested his forehead down onto the wall for a second, absolutely relieved. It meant their entire journey hadn’t been a waste, it meant he could finally create another horcrux. 

“Can I come up now?” The echo seemed to amplify the quiver in her voice.

Slowly he stood again, nodding before remembering that she couldn’t see him. “Hold onto it and make sure you still have the rope, I’ll levitate you back up.”

It was much easier going the other way now. It took less than no time for her to rise back up. She was just reaching for the ledge of the well, the shining diadem held roughly in her hand when a blinding pain brought him to his knees. He let out a bloody shriek as he fell, with just enough insight to grab onto the rope before Bellatrix fell with his diadem to her death. The friction from the rope burned his skin away but it was barely noticeable compared to the rest of overwhelming agony.

He knew immediately what was happening, the realisation didn’t make the crippling pain any easier. Another horcrux had been destroyed. 

As the pain started to subside, he struggled to hold onto the rope and watched as a hand clung onto the well desperately.   Bella was calling for help and he slowly dragged himself up and over to her. He needed the diadem now more than ever. 

When he reached the well, he clasped onto the wrist that was clinging on, the diadem somehow was still in her other hand. 

“Give it to me.”

He was surprised when she shook her head. “No, I can’t. You’ll drop me as soon as you have it.”

“I won’t, give it to me now and then I can get you out.” 

She held his glare for a second before reluctantly passing it up to him. The Dark Lord threw it down on the ground beside him and grasped onto her other hand, pulling and giving her enough leverage to get herself out. They both collapsed onto the muddy ground, exhausted from pain and the adrenaline rush. 

She glanced at him nervously as she recovered faster. “What happened?”

In turn he glared at her, grabbing the diadem as a way to distract himself. He was furious and terrified about the loss of another horcrux. he couldn’t afford to repeat his reaction from the last time. Voldemort needed to be in control and focused. 

The diadem in his hand was light and still shiny, despite its age. It had a beautiful blue stone in it and felt delicate although he knew it wasn’t. He couldn’t help think about which horcrux he could have lost, how on earth anyone could have found them. 

“You mentioned something else?”

She nodded, less enthusiastically now. “This.” She held up a ancient jewelled knife, it must have been imbued with magic as it was surely old enough to have rusted by now. He snatched it off her, giving it a brief inspection before keeping it, he would have time to analyse it later. 

Bellatrix had gone to collect the bag. He considered her for a moment, he could make his horcrux now and leave it where it was found. The problem was he was already weakened from losing a piece of his soul, he couldn’t afford to be left defenceless and alone in the wild. No, they needed to return back to Britain as soon as possible. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The descent was much faster, he anticipated reaching base in less than half the time. His desperation to return home was propelling him to keep going, despite tiredness, hunger or danger. He waited until the sun was starting to set before he finally stopped for the night, sheltering near the edge of the forest. 

Voldemort left his servant to scour the perimeter in search of any source of food whilst he clambered into the tent, admiring the artefacts he had collected. It was truly a wondrous piece of magic, the precious and intricate diadem of Ravenclaw. He ran his finger along the large blue opal before rereading the inscription yet again. 

“Master!” 

Startled by the sudden, panicked entrance of Bella, he stood to attention and dropped the tiara down onto the table. 

“I think you should see this.” She disappeared back outside the tent and he followed closely behind, taking a quick second to secure the tent to prohibit entrance to anyone else. After such a struggle, he couldn’t risk anyone else getting close to the diadem. 

Bellatrix had darted off deeper into the forest, stopping behind a tall shrub and waited for him. Puzzled, he approached with raised wand and watched as she pulled back a branch to give a view beyond. 

In a small clearing, there were three emaciated men, two attempting to crawl up the trees surrounding them, the other languishing aimlessly on the ground.

He watched them cautiously for a moment, holding onto Bella’s arm to stop her getting too near. 

“Careful, they are cursed.”

None of the men seemed aware of their presence. It was almost mesmerising to watch them. 

She observed them warily before questioning him. “Cursed?”

He pointed to the trees above the skeletal men. “Do you see the red fruit on the canopy? It’s cursed. It is supposedly so delicious, so addictive that anyone that tries it, is compelled to have more. Unfortunately, you can only have one taste of it, after that, it loses all flavour. These men are to be forever desperate to have another taste of the fruit but to no avail. They will be consumed by their obsession and likely starve to death. They will not want to eat anything else, nothing will ever have any taste like this fruit.”

She shuddered beside him, enraptured by the sight.

“We don’t need to concern ourselves with them, there is nothing we can do for them and they will not bother us.”

He pulled her arm to let go of the branch she had held back and the men were immediately obscured from view. 

“Come, we still have some fish, that will do for this evening.”

She nodded numbly, no doubt still preoccupied with the fate of the cursed men as they returned to the tent. 

They sat down together with last of their catch, eating in silence with diadem perched on the table between them. He noticed Bella admiring it curiously and as always couldn’t resist imparting knowledge. 

“It’s Ravenclaw’s diadem. Do you know the story about it?”

Bella appeared to concentrate for a moment as she set down her cutlery, it was easy for him to imagine what she was like teach at school. 

“Her daughter stole it didn’t she? And then it was lost, until now I suppose.”

She fiddled with a strand of her hair, it seemed to him as if she was waiting for reproach. Or praise.

“Her daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, stole it because she was jealous of her mothers fame and wisdom. She hoped to have some of it for herself and ran away. Her mother, Rowena was so devastated at the disappearance of her daughter, she sent a man to track her down.”

Bellatrix’s eyes twinkled as she listened to the story enraptured. 

“The Baron had been in love with Helena for years. He was just as desperate as her mother to find her and tracked her all across Europe until they reached Albania. She had taken to the mountains, believing she could lose him there.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No, he found her here. She had taken the effort hide the diadem. He demanded she come back to Britain with him. Helena was stubborn, obstinate, told him she would never come with him. Enraged, he lashed out.”

His companion was biting her lip in concern at the direction the story was taking. As if worrying now could change events that had already happened centuries ago. 

“The Baron stabbed her to death. Distraught with what he had done, he turned the blade on himself. He died holding onto her bloodied body.”

He pulled the knife out and set it next to the diadem. “I am almost certain that this knife was the one used. A fascinating artefact in its own right.”

Voldemort had debated for a brief moment gifting the knife to her, as a prize for her assistance. The mere fact it was a knife made this idea impossible. 

When he looked up, he was surprised to see how saddened Bellatrix appeared. “Did you not appreciate my story?”

Startled by the sharp question, she was quick to deny. “No, master, it’s not that. It’s just… It’s such a tragic story. I can’t imagine how it felt to destroy the thing you loved the most.”

She stared at the knife distractedly so he slid it off the table and out of view. 

“He was obviously a fool. To be so consumed with _love_ that he lost all sense. To then take his own life. Such weakness. So pitiful to even have fallen in love.”

“It is not weak to love.” Bella crossed her arms as she stared him down, fearful but determined. 

She jumped a mile high when he slammed his fist down on the table so hard and fast that the dishes jolted.

“That is exactly what is it. A disease that infects the mind, rotting away good sense. Depriving people of their own basic instincts, to break down that most primal urge to just survive.”

He took a second to let the wave of rage trickle away. “It is a fool’s errand.”

Though shaken by his outburst, Bella did not appear convinced at all but at least she was more reluctant to voice this disagreement then she had been. 

To be honest, he was surprised that her sympathies had not lain with Helena, a victim to someone else’s apparent love. Though he was aware that his understanding of these things wasn't always the best, it seemed she would be the more sympathetic character, a woman murdered by the man she had scorned, killed just because he claimed he loved her. It was pretty clear to Voldemort the destructive power of love, he could just never understand how no one else could see it.

“I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about them, they are still paying their penance back in Hogwart’s.”

That made her start. “In Hogwart’s? Wait, you don’t mean that the Baron was _the_ Bloody Baron _?_ As in the Slytherin house ghost?”

“Yes. Hogwart’s was where he first met and fell in love with her. Of course she had never returned that love. Now he roams the halls, weighed down by the chains of penitence.”

“Wow.” She seemed absolutely astounded at this revelation. “He used to terrify me at school. I can’t believe its the same person. I always assumed he died in battle or something.”

They sat there for a while, their minds digesting the story they just heard before he finally spoke again. 

“It’s time to retire. We should hopefully make it back to the village by tomorrow night.”

He let her go first as he packed away his treasures carefully. By the time he joined her she was already half asleep, facing away from him and half hidden below the covers. It didn’t take him long to settle down beside her.

In the darkness he could hear her sleepily shuffling around to face him and even without his eyes adjusting to the dark, he knew she was staring at him. 

“Bella.”

“Master?”

He considered her for a moment. “What are you thinking?”

She lay back so that she could look up at the ceiling instead. “Nothing.”

Shuffling closer, he placed a hand firmly on her jaw, his thumb resting lightly on her throat and turned her head to face him again. 

With very little effort, he pressed into her mind, something he hadn’t done in a while. Despite her reluctance to share, her mind yielded with more ease than it ever had before.

The threads of her thoughts opened up. It was clear she was still mulling over the story he had told, his conviction that love was a weakness. He could sense her pity and disbelief that he could believe such a thing, she had been wondering if he had ever felt any love before in his life. 

Withdrawing carefully from her mind, he watched as she bit her lip anxiously. She seemed so very close to him now as his thumb traced along her jaw and across her lower lip. He wanted to punish her for such thoughts.

Her gaze burned into him as he shuffled further up to her, so close he could feel the heat from her body beneath the duvet. 

Desire was pulsing below his skin, he could no longer deny that he wanted her and he didn’t want to anymore. His hand traced down her arm to the curve of her waist covered by her soft white nightdress. 

Bella’s breath hitched when he buried his face into her neck, inhaling her divine scent as he pressed her down onto the bed with his body. With almost gentle movements he continued exploring down her side to her thigh, where he found the hem of her dress and pushed it with ease up to her chest. 

Her skin was so soft beneath his exploring hands and he was already completely hard. She tensed below him as his hand pressed between her legs. She tried to close her legs but only pressed them against his hips. 

When he looked back up at her face, he could see something glistening on her cheeks. In his lust-addled state he frowned, his thumbs again tracing her cheek as he realised they were tears. 

“Bella.”

The harsh whisper of her name seemed to break the peace. Instead of speaking, she raised her head up to press her damp cheek against his own. It was an intimate, appeasing gesture. His hand tangled into her hair as he held her head in place for a moment before releasing her and rolling off her, punching the pillow beside him in a rage. His heart was pounding and his breath was still laboured as he tried to squash down his passion.

“Master?”

With a snarl of frustration, he climbed from the bed and moved into the kitchen area, sitting down on the edge of one of the armchairs. He clenched his fists as he tried to distract himself, to give himself a chance to get the blood flowing elsewhere. The chill was working well and he almost regretting not throwing any other clothes on.

It was dangerous, their situation. Or more accurately, she was dangerous. He could not afford any distractions and it was undeniable to him that she was a distraction. He just had to take his wand back into the bedroom and with one spell, it would be over. 

“Master?”

Voldemort started at her soft voice and the hand that gently rested on his bare shoulder. It was a gesture meant to comfort. Perhaps realising the danger in that action, she quickly withdrew. It was strange that she should seek him out now. 

“Go back to bed Bellatrix.”

There was a moment of silence in which he had believed she obeyed him. 

“I’m…”

He twisted around to her then, taking care to hide his lower body. She had wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill in her thin nightdress. He closed his eyes for a moment, giving himself the chance for the last of his desire to wash away. 

When he opened them again, she was nervously tugging on the ends of a tendril of hair. It was clear there was something on her mind. Even without legilimency, he could sense guilt and confusion coming from her. And something else.

“Ask your question Bella, I have no patience for coyness now.”

Her arms found their way to her side as she tried to adopt a more relaxed pose. “Master. I just wondered. You once said that we were alike, that it was our blood.”

He ran a hand through his hair, regretting allowing her leave to discuss whatever was on her mind. Although he had not been expecting this. He hadn’t even realised she remembered the discussion. 

“It is true.”

He surprised himself with his admission. 

“You mean you are…” She seemed apprehensive about even suggesting it. Yet she waited for a response, he was starting to think her boldness would require some discipline. Their foray into the wild had created a strange sense of intimacy and had broken down the clear hierarchy between them. 

“I am a halfblood.”

Words seemed to elude her as she stared wide-eyed at him. 

He was not worried about telling her this. There were those in his past that he was aware knew the truth of this from his school days, back when he was still Tom Riddle. Unlike some of those, Bellatrix belonged to him. She was always with him, she did as she was told, a faithful pet. She held no power nor influence, the information was meaningless to her. In fact he enjoyed her confusion and bewilderment. 

“But… I don’t understand. All the stuff about being pureblood? Aren’t you Slytherin’s heir?” Obviously sensing his bemusement, she cut her questioning short. 

He stood then, despite being half naked, he knew he cut an impressive, imposing figure as she shrunk back. It seemed to hit her at once, the significance of the secrets she had been given and he knew that she finally now understood she would never be leaving him. 

“I am Slytherin’s heir. I am descended from an ancient and pure line that was unfortunately sullied by my mother’s weakness. She fell in love with a pathetic muggle, who predictably abandoned her as soon as possible.”

It felt strange to divulge such things, he hated to think about his father, even the fact that he had parents. He preferred to considered himself as created, moulded into the Dark Lord that he is now. 

Clearly Bellatrix was having a difficult time processing this. 

“I have nothing further to say on the subject. You have overstepped with your questions as it is.”

The dark haired woman flinched and took a step back cautiously as she expected punishment.  “I’m sorry master.”

“Go back to bed, as I have asked you once already. I will not hesitate to provide motivation if required.”

She scarpered then back into the room next door. Voldemort took a moment for himself as he again considered the use of a memory charm. It had worked relatively effectively the last time but that was no guarantee for further success. 

What he really needed to do was kill her. That was the obvious solution, she was too distracting, she knew too much. The mere fact he was hesitant was further testament that it was a necessity. 

But, as he had been, he would continue to be merciful. At least until they returned home, she had proven her usefulness on this trip, he would dispose of her when this ceased to be the case. 

By the time he returned to the bedroom, all the excitement of earlier had vanished. He climbed into the bed, shuffling until he was comfortable and settled down to sleep. He barely resisted flinching when he felt a soft hand reach for his own for a moment. It was gone before he had a chance to do anything and he heard his companion shifting over to face away from him. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort skid the coins across the counter with a loud scrape. The old, slightly haggard man didn’t pay much attention to them once he had his money, he had likely seen much more suspicious guests than themselves. The small, aged inn was situated at the bottom of the vast mountain range, a welcome reprieve from the elements. 

It was pitch dark by the time they had reached it, the Dark Lord had insisted they push on, despite the late hour. Unfortunately it was too late to return back to England, he could floo from the inn but the central Albania centre for international travel would not be open at this late hour so they might as well rest while they could. 

He snatched up the key from the counter and led the way across the pub floor to the stairs in the back corner. There were a number of dusty small wooden tables and chairs, the only occupied ones were the benches at the back and the corners, the ones that offered much more privacy. 

Bella followed silently behind him, shivering as she carried the bag. He had spent a lot of time whilst trekking down the mountain, thinking about the events of the night before. He was sure that Bella was likely doing the same, although she had returned to her usual quiet, subservient self.

They climbed the rickety wooden stairs and found room thirteen. It was as much as he expected. A small, room filled with only the essentials. Mercifully there was a small fireplace already lit, the flames spluttering every so often with a particularly strong gust of wind outside. There was a dusty table with a wooden chair beside the window, covered by a dirty looking yellow curtain. The bed looked cleaner at least, from a distance anyway. 

The door behind him closed as Bellatrix stepped in, looking unimpressed as she set down the bag.

“Take off your outer clothes and we will go back down for some food.” 

It was the one advantage of staying there and as he said it, he heard her stomach growling. With deft movements she removed her damp travel cloak and folded it over the back of the chair as he hung his own on a hook on the back of the door. 

They returned back to the pub floor downstairs, even emptier now than it had been only a few moments ago. He pointed to a table against the wall but not far from the crackling fire, and headed off to place their order as Bellatrix took her seat. As he walked back to her, he couldn't help but admire the way the firelight lit up her face and deepened the shadows. For a few moments as she glanced up at him with those haunted eyes, he couldn’t help but think her otherworldly. 

Pushing the stray thoughts from his mind he sat across from her on the rickety chair as they waited. 

“We will be back tomorrow Master, won't we?”

“Yes Bella.” He had given a lot of thought to this, the fact that they would be returning back to his manor. He was very keen to return as fast as possible, he needed to get back to get things in other, who knew what idiotic things his followers would get up to without his guidance. 

It would be strange for him though, to go back to the same status quo. He had grown accustomed to their forced intimacy. It was worrying but he had become used to her company. He wondered vaguely if she felt the same way. 

Before he could even consider glimpsing into her mind, the owner dumped two bowls of soup in front of them, one of them spilling slightly with the force. Despite scowling at him, the man did not seem to noticed and vanished back to hide behind his counter. 

Voldemort was just about to tuck in, he started when his companion gave a quiet low, very satisfied moan as she tasted her soup. It was very difficult for him not to react. She grimaced sheepishly and her cheeks tinged pink when she realised she had drawn his attention. 

When he tasted it himself, he understood her reaction.

“Much better than the slop you usually serve.”

She nodded into her soup, expecting the disparaging comment. It failed to bring him much satisfaction. 

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. He was distracted as he thought about what was happening back in Britain, about what was happening to the pieces of his soul. He was so distracted that it took him a long while to realise that Bellatrix was squirming uncomfortably opposite him and seemed to pull her hair down to obscure the side of her face. 

“What is wrong with you?”

She froze then at the sharp tone of his voice. 

“Well?”

She whispered conspiratorially to him, her eyes darting to the darkened corner, obscured in the shadows. “Master, I can feel eyes on me, I think there is something over there watching us.” She blinked anxiously again into the darkness before looking to him. Her eyes were wide and looked demented in her fear. 

With some subtly he glanced over his shoulder, he could see nothing in the darkness. He wasn’t entirely sure he could trust Bella’s instincts anymore. She had been gradually becoming more paranoid and anxious.

“Let us go back upstairs.” He pushed his empty bowl away from him and they stood, heading for the stairs as his companion watched warily over her shoulder. 

The room was just as dingy when they returned but it had at least warmed due to the fire. He ducked his head into the small adjoining bathroom which after being stuck in a tent for so long seemed almost decadent.

“You may bathe first, don’t linger too long.”

She nodded in appreciation and carried her personal items with her into the bathroom, the door closed and he could hear the sound of running water.

As he had requested, she didn’t take long. She had changed into her white nightdress, her damp curls hung limp around her face and she appeared much more clean and relaxed. 

“Retire when you are done, no point in waiting up for me.” 

She looked anxiously at the double bed covered with thick blankets but he ignored it as he entered the bathroom. There was steam and a smell of flowery soap left over from her. The water was roasting as he stepped into the bathtub and under the shower. He was quick, but would have been quicker had he not taken the time to relieve himself. 

The room only had one double bed and even if he wanted to transfigure another bed, there wouldn’t have been the room. He enjoyed the idea of staying close but he couldn't bear another night of frustration. Not after what had transpired the night before. 

By the time he had towel dried himself and stepped out into the bedroom, she was already under the covers. Now that she was in the bed, it was looking a lot smaller. 

Bellatrix was half asleep as far as he could tell, unsurprising with the late hour and the lack of sleep they had the night before. He climbed in beside her, feeling much too close for comfort. The covers were heavier and warmer than the ones they were used to. 

With a flick of his wand, the lights went out. 

When he opened his eyes, it was pitch black. He had been disturbed from his sleep by something, he couldn’t put his finger on. The wind and rain howled through the thin window pane and when his hand reached out, he realised the other side of the bed was empty and cold. 

There was a sudden flash of light from another storm outside and in that brief second, what he saw turned his blood cold. There was Bellatrix her eyes closed, held in the embrace of some man.

Except he wasn’t a man. No human could be so tall and gaunt, with skin so pale. Nor would they be able to move so silently into a room and clasp so tightly onto a woman clearly in a stupor and ravish their throats. 

He grabbed his wand from underneath his pillow and with a flash of light the room was illuminated. The creature dropped Bella, who collapsed to the ground and fled the room with inhuman speed. Voldemort threw the blankets off himself and chased after him, ignoring everything and barrelled out of the room. A rapid fire stupify caught the creature just as he reached the end of the corridor, about to slink down the stairs. 

As he approached, Voldemort realised exactly what it was. A vampire.

He made sure to wrap magical chains around the creature before dragging him back along the corridor and into the room. Magic didn’t work the same on creatures as it did for humans and he could risk it escaping.

Back in the bedroom, Bellatrix was still lying on the ground. She now appeared even paler than she had previously which made the dark red blood trickling down her throat and staining her white dress stand out even more. He was relieved to see that she was still breathing. He shook her head and her eyes opened but were completely glazed over. 

“Bella?”

She didn’t respond, she didn’t react to her name at all, as if she hadn’t heard him. 

Turning back, he could see the blood staining the creatures mouth, the only source of colour on its deathly pale skin. He knew exactly what needed to be done. He couldn’t allow for Bella to be turned. 

With a flick of his wand, the wooden chair in the corner cracked. He picked up the splintered leg and leaning over the creature, he brought it down with a quick thrust. 

The creature gave an unholy screech as the spike penetrated his ribcage. The chain kept him trapped but he rolled and writhed in agony. Voldemort couldn’t bear to listen to it and with a strike of his wand, the creatures head was severed from his neck. Blood gushed out and covered the wooden floor below them. 

The Dark Lord paid no further heed and turned his attention to Bellatrix. Blood was still slowly oozing from the wound on her neck but she looked so peaceful. Her eyes were blinking slowly as if she was just waking. 

Kneeling, he wrapped an arm around her back, supporting and lifting her slowly from the ground. She held onto him as she stumbled, still woozy. 

“Master?”

He tried to direct her toward the bed but she froze when she saw the blood and the body of the creature and let out a bloodcurdling scream. He had to wrap a hand over her mouth and pulled her toward him despite her vicious struggles. It would do no good to draw attention to them. 

“Hush, calm down. Calm down right now. It’s dead.”

Grasping onto her, he used his other hand to vanish the body, belatedly thinking he should have done that before waking her. 

“Look, it’s gone.”

She shook her head violently as her chest heaved with frightened, angry sobs. He could tell she was trying hard to rein in her horror. 

“Vampire.”

Bella just about managed to get that out, it wasn’t a question but he confirmed. “Yes, it was. It’s dead now. Come on.”

He half dragged her over to her side of the bed and forced her to sit. 

She was a wreck. She flinched when he raised his wand but he merely closed the oozing puncture wounds on her neck. “Do you remember what happened?”

She shook her head in a daze but still responded, her voice now eerily calm as if talking about a distant memory. “I thought it was just a dream. There was someone calling me, with the most soothing voice. Telling me they would bring me home, that if I went with them they would take me back and I could go home.”

She looked up at him then, embarrassed by what she was confessing. Voldemort rubbed his finger against the sealed puncture wounds on her throat, they would certainly leave a scar. 

Part of him thought he ought to apologise, it had been his fault that he hadn’t warded the room. A dangerous error. It had also been him that had not believed her when she felt there had been someone watching her. Based on everything that had happened, it seemed she had been right. This was only something that would aggravate her precarious grasp on reality and worsen her paranoia. 

“Rest now, it’s dead and I will ward the room. We will be leaving early.” 

He helped lift her legs onto the bed and under the duvet as she was focused on scanning the room for any other dangers. 

Voldemort made sure the puddle of blood was also vanished and warded the room securely before climbing into other side of the bed. Bellatrix looked completely frazzled, there was no way she was going to relax enough to get back to sleep. In fact he still felt rather on edge himself. Such danger should never have got so close. It had disturbed him greatly to see Bellatrix in such a position. That fiend with his vile claws grasping onto her, suckling her throat. It made him queasy to think of. 

Bellatrix jumped with the thunder outside. In an attempt to make things easier, he transfigured the properties of one of the books on the cabinet beside him to make it glow. It was the same spell that capable parents would use to help their young children get to sleep with a soothing, dim light. The light wouldn't last but was enough for the few hours before the sun rose and allowed him to turn off the main switch.

He could practically feel the tension coming from Bellatrix even though she was nowhere near him. He shuffled over a little and wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her closer so she could rest her head in the crook of his arm. 

“Shh, it’s alright now. You’re safe.”

The only danger she should have to face should be at his hand.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

With a flick of his wand, the collapsing hovel was set ablaze. The fire swirled high for a moment, plumes of smoke rising into the sky. The resurrection stone had been taken from the Gaunt home. It was the horcrux that had been destroyed. 

He had no idea how it had been discovered but he was certain Dumbledore was behind it. He had been so sure that there was no way that he could be connected to the extinct, savage and poverty stricken old Gaunt’s. Dumbledore had always been a thorn in his side, he knew far too much about him ever since he first met him in the orphanage. Voldemort couldn’t even fathom how he had managed to connect him to the Gaunt’s. 

He now only had three horcuxes, the most recent was the diadem he made with a vagrant they had come across just before leaving Albania. It had not yet been relocated, which was making him nervous as he did not like keeping two in the same place at his manor. 

The Dark Lord considered going over the hill to have a look at Riddle manor overlooking Little Hangleton but knew it was a bad idea. If Dumbledore had connected him to the Gaunt’s, he certainly knew about the family for which he had been named. 

Apparating away, he appeared outside Lestrange manor and strode up to the front door. It swung open at his approach and Rodolphus came down the main staircase to greet him in a hurry.

“My Lord, you have returned. Welcome.”

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he bent his head in deference before gesturing toward the parlour. “Would you care to come through?”

Voldemort gave a short nod and followed after him. Mina gave a squeak when she saw them enter, jumping up quickly and abandoning her needlework. 

“My Lord.”

She glanced nervously toward her husband who thoughtlessly gave her an order. “Two firewhiskey’s.”

With bowed head she scurried from the room. Rodolphus sat back on one of the deep set chairs, sprawling out comfortably. 

“It is good to see you return my Lord, is there anything I can do to be of service?”

Gazing at the black and white wedding photograph on the immense mantelpiece he responded. “I have been away, what have I missed?”

“I am not sure how much you have kept up to date but things have become very chaotic. The ministry declared a state of emergency on Monday with curfews and new, more extensive powers given to the aurors. A number of followers have had their homes raided in the last couple of days. No one has been caught out yet but it’s only a matter of time. It’s…”

He trailed off uncomfortably. Before he could be questioned further, Mina returned to the room. With shaking hands she handed a tumbler of firewhiskey to each of them before slipping out of the room when it was clear her husband no longer needed anything. 

Bracing himself, he carried on. “With the state of things in the ministry and with the knowledge of your absence, a lot of followers have become very anxious. A number of us, including Malfoy, Macnair, the Crouch boy and my brother have been trying to rein them in. It will reassure them to know of your return.”

The Dark Lord sneered at the younger man, as if he expected some sort of praise for managing a few followers. “No reassurance should be required, it suggests a lack of faith. I will never leave or abandon those who have been loyal to me.”

Rodolphus straightened himself up, less comfortable now. “I apologise my Lord, I hadn’t meant to suggest anything. It is just with everything that has been happening, a number of them are fearful.”

“You mean cowardly?”

“Well…”

“I hope you were not one of those, fearing that an auror might pay your lovely home a little visit?” He glanced around the opulent room mockingly. 

“No of course not my Lord.”

“Hmm.” He let the silence linger uncomfortably for a few moments as his host panicked over whether he was in trouble or not. 

“I will be calling a meeting this evening with a number of my inner circle. You will also be in attendance but before then I want you to round up the goblins, their king or whatever he is. We need money and we need Gringott’s.”

Rodolphus grimaced. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news my Lord.”

He paused cryptically, unwilling to carry on and the Dark Lord didn’t bother to resist the urge to curse him, sending a simple stinging hex. This younger man hissed in pain but responded more quickly this time. 

“There was a vote in the ministry, the Wizengamot rehashed the votes restricting goblin use of magic. It caused mayhem, the goblins are essentially on strike. All withdrawals have to be made via Switzerland as the bank has currently closed for business. Dumbledore has been pretty active in negotiations with them, everyone else though is furious. With all the mayhem going on they feel the goblins are taking advantage of the political instability.”

He had to take a moment before responding, his fury was barely restrained. “Who initiated the revote?”

The coldness of his voice gave Rodolphus pause, it was obviously that whomever he named was in severe trouble but no one was fearless enough to refuse their Lord. “It was Mulciber.  I think he thought that by raising these issues we could persuade the goblins to join our side by offering them more freedom, just like the werewolves.”

Voldemort flashed him a glare to silence him. “He acted outside his orders with no consideration of my plans, with little thought at all. Such stupidity will not be tolerated.”

“I will be back in a couple of hours for the meeting.” Without so much as a glance he disapparated from the manor.

 

* * *

 

 

The room was almost completely silent. Voldemort had been stood for almost twenty minutes waiting as his followers squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. A whimper sounded from the bound naked man on the table, blood was leaking across the table from underneath him as he looked to his comrades for assistance. He could tell the death eaters closest were trying to avoid flinching away from the blood creeping closer to the edge of the table. 

With a flash of green light the man’s head thudded onto the wooden table.

“This is what happens to fools.” He stood behind his chair at the head of the table, looking down at all his closest followers. All he could see was vanity, weakness. He had been gone for a short period of time and they had let all his plans unravel. 

“I confess myself disappointed. There will be no more room for idleness.” He stared at each of them in turn, some at least had the sense to look shamefaced. “Dolohov, Macnair and Rookwood, I want you to draw up plans. We need to weaken Dumbledore, we need to eliminate those closest to him, his order members. Snape will provide information to assist. We need Dumbledore out of the picture. With him dead, the resistance will crumble. Lucius, I want you to parlay with the goblins, we need them onside.”

He could see the blonde man grimace at the idea but he paid no mind. “Lestrange’s, you will be keeping an eye on the minister along with Yaxley. Crouch will be keeping tabs on his father, we need to be one step ahead of the aurors.” 

The young boy eagerly nodded, keen to be of help. “Karkaroff and Goyle, I want you to capture Bernard Molyneux, there are rumours he has been trying to get back to France. I want him captured _alive.”_

With a last scowl he waved his hand in dismissal. “I will be calling another meeting soon, as it seems you all need your hand held.” They tried to scarper back to the apparition point as quickly as possible. “Lucius stay.”

The blonde man slowed and turned back to him apprehensively. The Dark Lord inclined at Rodolphus to leave as well.

“It is vital that you reach an accord with the goblins, promise them anything. If they are unwilling to join us, you must empty your vault, do you understand? My cup is to be protected, with your life if necessary.”

Malfoy looked alarmed at the idea but nodded. “Of course my Lord, I will do anything in my power.”

He just about resisted scoffing but dismissed him anyway. Sitting back down, he thought about his horcrux’s. His careful plans were falling to pieces. Two had been destroyed. A third was now at risk. When he had chosen Gringott’s he had believed there was no safer place for it. Now that had been shattered by the realisation that Dumbledore had nosed his way in. Advocating for the goblins, it was undeniably just a way to get to his horcrux. 

He slammed his fist down on the table in fury. This was all because of Regulus Black, the boy who was just a bit too inquisitive for his own good. He never should have trusted him, the Black’s were an ancient, bigoted family but the last few generations left a lot to be desired. He should have paid more heed to that. 

The door flew open and Mina Lestrange walked in, freezing when she realised she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry my Lord, I didn’t know you were still here. My husband asked me to clean up after the meeting.”

Her eyes finally fell on the corpse of Mulciber and she stumbled, nearly fainting. He chuckled at her reaction but vanished the body for her. 

“I am leaving, do as your husband wishes.” 

Despite his words, he watched her for a moment as she cautiously approached the pool of blood dripping off onto the floor. For the first time it struck him that perhaps the problem with his followers ran deeper, that it may have been a mistake to have never initiated any women into his inner circle. It was never really a deliberate choice but recruiting largely from traditional families meant no men would permit their wives to partake in such brutality. It was a shame, if he could have cultivated the loyalty that many of them had to their husbands to himself, who knows what could have happened. Women were weaker, less cruel but they lacked the ego that many of his death eaters had. Unfortunately he had much more to worry about than the lack of diversity in his ranks. 

He stood and apparated from the hall, he had no need for apparition points in his own followers homes. 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort was hunched over a number of open books piled up on the table in front of him in his dining room. He could hear Bella rattling around in the kitchen next door but paid no mind as he concentrated. He was getting desperate, he needed a back-up plan. His immortality was no longer secure and with every horcrux destroyed, he became closer to death. 

Right now he needed to hide the diary and the diadem, as well as find other options for immortality. He considered another horcurx, his original plan was for seven after all. Even more preposterously, he had debated using a living creature as one, he had in fact considered Bella. She was secure in his home and he spent most his time with her plus it could help bind her loyalty to him but he correctly dismissed the idea. The mere thought of her possessing a piece of his soul, that she may in some way be able to manipulate it against him, it made him shudder. Living things were too complicated, too fickle and difficult to control. Too easy to destroy. 

He felt the wards around his home shudder. It was a death eater, coming to seek entrance. Voldemort granted them access, angry but curious to know who would dare turn up uninvited seeking access to his home. A moment later there was a knock at the door to which Bellatrix hurriedly attended. 

Snape strode into the room bowing before Voldemort, only taking a seat at the table when it had been indicated. The Dark Lord swept the books away, Severus was intelligent enough to understand their significance. As usual it was difficult to read the potions master but a sense of foreboding hit him as he watched the younger man carefully. 

“I hope you have a very good reason for interrupting.”

Severus stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I have come with some terrible news.”

That horrible sense of foreboding was twisting around in his chest uncomfortably.

“I have just heard via a highly confidential letter written to Dumbledore that the Minister for Magic is dead.”

He stared at the younger man for a moment, feeling as though he had missed the punchline. He hated feeling as though he didn’t know what was going on. “I see. I fail to see how this is terrible news?”

With a hint of a sneer Snape continued. “Rodolphus assassinated her. He was killed by her security detail. This information has not yet been released to the public.”

Voldemort almost could have laughed, the news sounded absolutely ridiculous to him. He was only a step away from unrelenting fury. “You are telling me that one of my most loyal death eaters killed the Minister, whom he was ordered to monitor and as a result is now dead.”

Severus clearly hated being the bearer of bad news. “Yes my Lord.”

“That he has risked everything by killing a woman who was due to stand down at any moment.” 

It was not a question. 

“Why would he do this?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, “My Lord?”

“I asked why would he do this?” The calmness with which the question was asked was obviously setting the younger man even more on edge.

“I could not even begin to imagine what he was thinking, to act beyond your orders. At a guess, he likely believed he was aiding the cause by striking when opportunity presented itself.”

A well reasoned response. Rodolphus was loyal, sadistic but known for his often hot-headed actions. It was entirely feasible he simply got carried away but had been acting with good intentions. Unfortunately good intentions meant nothing when they had destroyed all his plans. 

“The fool. He is lucky that he is dead.”

He summoned a piece of parchment, scrawling on it furiously. “You understand what he has ruined for me?”

Snape, in the most sympathetic tone he could muster, responded. “I understand.”

Sliding the folded parchment over to the professor, he continued. “Send this off when you return home, before going back to the school.”

“Yes my Lord.”

 With a sigh that barely helped assuage his anger, Voldemort questioned. “Do you know who her likely successor is?”

“Well the Deputy Minister is Fawcett but his appointment would cause a lot of discontent. The most popular nominee would be Minchum, a hardliner.”

Voldemort knew all this already of course. Harold Minchum was very vocal about the rise of dark forces and was popular as having a tough stance against the Death Eaters. It would be difficult to carry out his plans of manoeuvring a follower into position. Following an assassination, any candidate with slightest sympathies with pureblood ideology would be immediately discounted as initiating a coup. It was now about damage control. 

“I hope that is all.”

Snape cleared his throat meaningfully. 

“More?”

“Dumbledore has drawn up a treaty with the goblins. An agreement that if they help with the war effort, they will be granted a number of rights.”

Severus visibly gulped when the quill in Voldemort’s hand snapped in half. “Help how?”

“I am unsure of the details but likely by restricting cash flow to known or likely supporters of yours.”

Voldemort had to steel himself for a moment. Despite his extreme usefulness, the urge to kill the man before him was growing with every piece of depressing news and the Dark Lord could hazard a good guess at Dumbledore’s plan. This was not just about extra support from other magical creatures. Coughing up a horcrux was a pretty fine example of ‘helping the war effort’.

“And the plan to eliminate Dumbledore?”

“Will take more time, he is an intelligent man. He will be expecting an attack, the timing needs to be right as we will likely only have one chance.”

Voldemort leaned forward, slightly impressed the younger man didn't shrink back. “To me, these sound like convenient excuses, I hope working so closely with that old man hasn't made you forget your loyalties. Or are you worried you will no longer be of use to me if he is out of the picture?”

“My loyalties have never been in question, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord gave a soft, menacing chuckle. “I remember you when you were just a lanky, nervous young man. So keen to help until you found out your little mudblood girlfriend was fighting with the resistance. Oh, I remember how you begged me, pleaded with me to guarantee she wouldn’t be targeted. Such pathetic weakness. I was so disappointed, you had been showing such potential.”

Severus gave an ugly grimace at the forced memory. “My Lord.”

“Yes, you had begged and it was all for naught. She died protecting her beloved husband. She didn’t care for you at all. She had forgotten you even existed.”

Despite the cool demeanour, he knew he was affecting the younger man. “With her gone, there should be no more distractions.” With voice as smooth as butter he continued. “You know I hate to punish you Severus. You are one of my most loyal, useful and competent followers. Do not continue to disappoint me, the consequences for you will be grave.”

His gaze burned into him for a few beats, enough to let the message truly sink in. “Now go, send that owl.”

Severus nodded in deference before striding from the room, seemingly as confident as when he had entered. Voldemort wasn’t sure if Bella was there to show him out but it was of no consequence, Severus was sure to be able to find the door himself. 

He moved to the parlour, his previous task forgotten and summoned Barty Crouch Jr. The young boy appeared instantly, bending down to the ground in humility. 

“My Lord.”

“Stand Barty. I want you to gather for me, all the information available about Harold Minchen, use Lucius and his contacts as well. This is of the utmost importance and you must begin immediately, do you understand?”

Barty nodded eagerly. “Of course my Lord, as you wish. I will not disappoint.”

“I should hope not. Now go, get on with it.”

He dismissed him with a sweep of his hand and Barty almost looked despondent as being disregarded so quickly. Nevertheless he vanished leaving the Dark Lord to prepare for his next visitor. 

He needed to thwart Minchen, the man was dangerous to everything he stood for. Malfoy was being primed to step into a race for Minister but with the violent circumstances surrounding it, he was better off left out of it. His next thought had been pushing for Barty Crouch Sr. The man was gaining fast support for his tough stance against them and although he was a while off that promotion, with the right help he could win. Yes, he was their enemy, but better an enemy they knew than the alternative. 

“Bella.” He didn’t even have to raise his voice, he knew she was not very far away. Seconds later she joined him, clearly concerned about his current mood.

“Yes master?”

“We are leaving.” He gave her no further information as he swept toward her, grabbing her with little resistance and disapparating. 

With a near silent pop, they appeared in the parlour of Lestrange manor, Bella stumbling to her knees in her disorientation. Before them stood Rabastan Lestrange with an iron grip around the arm of his sister in law. Both of them appeared as though they had been crying, although he suspected it was for very different reasons. 

Mina Lestrange was trembling like a leaf and even Rabastan appeared nervous in his presence. 

“I am sure by now you have both heard about Rodolphus’ foolish actions earlier today. For which, he has managed to escape a fair justice.”

Mina let out a loud sob at this. 

“Get out Rabastan.” 

It looked for a moment as if the thickset man wanted to say something but wisely decided against it, disappearing without a glance at his dead brother’s wife. 

The waif-like woman was shaking as she clutched her arms around herself, tears streaming down her face. He hit her with the cruciatus curse, just for a second. Even with the reduced intensity, she was on the ground, screaming her lungs out which continued for a moment even after he had lifted the curse.

Seeing an opportunity, and having too little time to drag out a pointless torturing session, he turned his attention toward his companion. Bella had paled as she looked upon the other woman on the ground.

“You still have your wand?”

Gingerly she brought it out.

“Good, come over here to me.”

Her reluctance to approach him was obvious and when she stopped just out of arms reach, he stepped closer and dragged her into position by grabbing the loose material at her shoulder.

“Do you know who this woman is?”

Bellatrix remained silent, staring down impassively at the woman as she whimpered and begged quietly. 

“This is Mina, wife of Rodolphus Lestrange. Today Mr Lestrange acted outside my orders. Acting in a way that was unbecoming of the position he held within my ranks. For his stupidity, he was killed in action.”

The dark haired woman before him blinked as she absorbed the information, her eyes never leaving the pathetic figure on the ground. 

“Unfortunately, he escaped my justice. I, therefore have had to find an alternative punishment.” He moved until he was stood flush behind her and lifted her wand arm up until it was pointed toward Mina. “Now I know you were rather useless at the imperious curse, I want you to try your hand instead at the killing curse.”

Mina shrieked on the floor at these words and slowly attempted to crawl away. In response he sent a short zap of _crucio_ from around Bella’s immobile form. It was enough to stop her in her tracks as she collapsed onto the ground in a choking, crying mess.  

He whispered over her dark tangles of hair into her ear. “Now don't rush, take your time but not too much time. Don’t over think it. You know the incantation, now give it a go.”

She stood still and made no attempt to move. 

“Go on, now.”

He felt rather than saw her shake her head and she lowered her wand arm. “No, I won’t.”

His hissed in her ear. “Do it.”

“No.”

Mina seemed to relax onto the ground, as if this was her saving grace. Voldemort reached into Bella’s thick mane of hair and yanked it back, she tried her best not to grimace in pain. 

“You better do it. Someone here will be killed today, if it’s not her, it will be you.” 

At this threat Bella raised her wand slowly again, unfortunately it fell back to her side almost immediately. He could follow through on his threat, he knew he could but he really didn’t want to kill her. He enjoyed her too much. Although her obstinance was making everything so difficult. 

“No, I won’t do it.”

“Do it now, you idiot.” It was infuriating, he gave her so much leeway, saw so much potential in her but she just wouldn’t obey him. It served to remind him that she did not deserve his favour.

“Why are you making me do this?”

The question almost gave him pause. Holding onto her hair, he threw her down to the ground in frustration, aiming his own wand at her. She was definitely getting bolder. “Really? You are willing to sacrifice your own life for this woman, this pureblood who supports me? Who believes she is better than you because of the filth in your blood? Your life for hers?”

Bellatrix glared at him, her chin raised defiantly. “I will not kill her.”

His other captive used his distraction to attempt to crawl away, with a swish of his wand and a flash of green light she collapsed onto the ground with a thud. When he turned to face his dark haired servant, she was working her jaw in agitation but said nothing. 

“Pathetic. I don’t know why I bother.”

He watched her grit her teeth from her position on the floor. Perhaps his mistake was asking her to start with a woman. It wasn’t uncommon for more green followers to hesitate when it came to the fairer sex. It was unfortunate for a number of reasons that Rodolphus hadn’t survived, with the animosity between them, he could image Bella would have taken a lot less convincing. He had had followers before that refused to kill, a few threats to their family or a taste of the cruciatus was usually enough to persuade them. Unfortunately he doubted that would ever work with Bellatrix. Especially as her closest family members were dead. He needed a new tact. 

But at the current moment there was no time for that. 

“Absolutely useless. Now come, you may still serve some purpose.” He held out his hand for her to take, reluctantly she took it and he wrenched her to her feet. “I need to find a book, it is small, with a black leather bound cover. The pages inside will be blank. It may be hidden in plain view or behind strong enchantments, it is difficult to predict what foolish thing Rodolophus may have done. You may sense strong, dark magic.”

It was obvious she was very concerned about what this object may be. 

“Let me know immediately if you find anything like this, start in this room, I will be upstairs.”

He left her to it, he hoped his connection to the horcruxes would allow him to find it, no matter what security was placed on it. His search began in the study, the room he believed most likely. 

By the time he had finished searching the bedrooms, he was losing hope of finding it. Returning to Bella, he found her painstakingly searching through the library, it was clear she was almost done and empty handed. This was a horrifying development. 

He had entrusted the diary to Rodolophus in the interim whilst he arranged alternative means. It seemed safer to him to spread them out, only a fool would keep more that one horcrux in his home. Apparently he had been a fool to trust such a man. 

Voldemort had no idea where Lestrange had left his horcrux, or if he had other safe locations not in the bounds of his manor. There was a chance his brother would have an idea but it was very unlikely. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion by asking around. 

Bella turned to him and shook her head fearfully but he already knew it wasn’t here. He stormed back to the parlour, his servant hot on his heels.

Looking at the body on the ground he almost regretted killing Mina so swiftly, he was certain Roldolphus never confided anything of much importance to her but her memories could have unwittingly held a clue regardless. 

He noticed a strange light blue powder on the floor close to her body, it had been ground down into the fibres of the rug. He prodded the mysterious substance with his wand and it fizzed and crackled before burning out. He recognised it as powdered Chizpurfle carapace, a very rare potion ingredient. He had no idea what the Lestrange’s would be doing with such a thing, it was very strange.

But it wouldn't bring him any closer to finding his horcrux. 

Grabbing onto Bella’s wrist, he bent and held on to the cool, stiff shoulder of Mina’s corpse and apparated back home. 

They appeared in the atrium and he released both of them, glancing disdainfully down at the body.

“Get rid of her.” 

When Bellatrix raised her wand with care he tutted, before with a flick of his own, her wand was in his hand. “I don't think so. You can get this back later, I want you to consider how useful magic is, and how difficult life can be without it. One simple spell and you failed. You are a shameful example of a witch. Now get to it.”

Climbing up the main staircase he watched her puzzle over her task. She vanished from the room for a couple of minutes before returning with her own duvet cover. Setting it beside Mina’s body, she struggled with trying to roll the woman over onto her back on the sheet. It was clear the body was already become stiffened. 

Huffing and puffing, she finished at last and used the sheet to drag the dead weight out of the room. Voldemort made his way towards one the guest rooms and stood at the window watching her as he mulled things over. 

Outside the garden was frigid as she mucked around in the frozen ground. Somehow she had managed to dig a shallow grave and dumped the corpse into it. She took more care than he had expected with ensuring Mina was covered by the off-white sheet before scattering the soil over her. As a final act she placed a large stone down and using the mud, painted an M on it. 

He vaguely wondered, if at any point she had considered that it was meant to have been her sister in that position, as the wife of Rodolphus Lestrange.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

“Somehow you have managed it my Lord, Crouch is now out in front. As ever I am humbled by your political machinations.” 

Lucius was as simpering as usual. They were both seated in his study, a glass of fire whiskey held by each of them, both barely touched. 

The Dark Lord gave him a stern look over his glass. “And you continue to push for Minchum?”

With some attempt at delicacy the blonde man added “As you had requested my Lord. To all accounts it appears as though I am backing Minchum. I am still not entirely sure of the reason for this however.”

With a sigh, Voldemort decided to indulge him. “That is because you fail to see the big picture. You are showing your support for a hardliner, who is very much against me. He is popular but no longer as popular as Barty Crouch who is now going to win. He will be Minister for Magic for a short period until the time is optimal for us. He will be unveiled as one of my supporters, leaving you free to step into position cleanly as you had campaigned for his opponent.”

Clearly Lucius liked the idea of becoming minister but remained confused. “You are going to pretend Crouch is a supporter, I don’t know if anyone will believe that. With all due respect, my Lord.”

“It’s alright Malfoy, I wouldn’t expect you to grasp the concept so easily. We have in our ranks, the only son and heir of Barty Crouch Sr as a most loyal servant. The boy has proven himself again and again. Even if no one where to believe Crouch Sr was involved, he would forever be tainted by his son’s involvement.”

Malfoy swirled his drink delicately, the light from the fire reflecting warmly off it. “You mean to expose Barty?”

“When the time comes, yes. Barty is most loyal, he understands the sacrifice he will make will be in the greater good of the cause. If it is timed correctly, the revelation will be meaningless anyway, by that point we will be in charge of the ministry.”

“Of course, excellent my Lord.”

“Now tell me, what have you been doing about the goblins?”

He could see Lucius visibly gulp at the question and he knew he wasn't going to like the answer. He stood, making his way over to the roaring fire and set his glass down casually.

“You must understand my Lord, I have been working tirelessly on this. The goblins are difficult, they are not keen to work with us, not now that Dumbledore has given them such a good offer. They believe him, that he will keep his word. Even the threat of torture and pain wasn’t enough, they don’t want bribes. So far I have been unable to get any leeway to get to my vault. All the money I have been using has been from a separate Swiss account. They have cut off my account entirely and are threatening to keep the contents.”

Voldemort was glad he had put down his glass, as he was sure he would have shattered it by now in his rage. “This is unacceptable Malfoy. _Crucio.”_

A simple flick of his wand had the blonde man thrown out of his armchair writhing in agony on the ground and screaming his lungs out. He held the curse for a long five seconds.

“I’m sorry my Lord, please I am sorry. I will do better.”

The man was gasping for breath when he finally released the curse. “I am very concerned about your failure Malfoy. You have always been loyal and effective. I am starting to worry that something is distracting you. I will give you one more chance Malfoy, before I have to start looking at eliminating these distractions. Understand?”

Lucius shakily stood, trying to fix his ruffled hair back into order. “Yes my Lord, thank you for the opportunity to prove myself.”

Voldemort sniffed at the man. He had little hope for him succeeding, with Dumbledore involved, he was almost certain it was already a lost cause. 

“Arrange a meeting, I think perhaps I may be a little more persuasive. Do not tell them I will be joining.”

Shaking as he sank back in his armchair, Lucius agreed readily. “Yes, certainly my Lord.”

Voldemort picked up his glass, downing the rest of his drink before apparating silently from Malfoy Manor. 

When he reappeared, it was in his own manor. To his great surprise there were raised voices from the sitting room. 

“You keep saying all these things Snape but I know you are not to be trusted.”

He moved toward the argument, not wishing to interrupt just yet. It was clearly Severus and Bellatrix, he had no idea what the professor was doing here though.

“Don’t be a fool Bellatrix.”

Her voice seemed to rise an octave. “Don’t be a fool, don’t be a fool! Don’t do or say anything. Just wait, just bide your time. Just trust!”

He could tell she was becoming more and more hysterical until she eventually screeched. “I don’t trust you!”

Severus seemed to be levelled headed as always, sneering in response despite the sounds of a struggle. “Bellatrix, stop this now. These theatrics will get you nowhere. I am doing all I can but you need to wait until the optimal time.”

“I am sick of waiting for your promises. All the questions you ask me, all the lies you have fed me."

He sounded exasperated as he tried to soothe Bella. “I have not lied to you. It will not be long. Just stay out of his way.”

There was a long pause at that, it seemed she had at least managed to rein in some control. “Stay out of his way. That’s easy for you to say, you are able to leave, to just slink back to the safety of that castle and Dumbledore.”

It sounded as if she had moved closer to the other man, her voice had taken on a vindictive tone that he had never heard from her before, it contrasted sharply with her previously paranoid hysteria. 

“I heard about your little crush. It was Potter’s wife, wasn’t it? You made a bargain for her life and it didn’t work. Whose side are you really on? Have you made a bargain for my life too?”

With a heavy sigh, Snape responded. “Just don't put yourself in harms way. I know you are stuck in the middle, very few other people can understand that.”

“Just fuck off, I can help myself. You know nothing about it.”

At that dramatic declaration, the Dark Lord entered the room. Bellatrix was stood in one corner of the room behind an armchair pouting in a strop, the professor was a few steps away and even with his exemplary self-control, couldn’t help looking alarmed. 

“What is going on?”

There was silence for a beat before Snape finally spoke in his slow, measured voice. “I came to see you my Lord, I have information. Unfortunately whilst I was waiting, I started talking to Miss Black. I believe whilst in your service she has been overhearing things and is confused about my role. I was attempting to correct her misconceptions about me. She is not the first to suspect me of some duplicity.”

He observed them both coldly for a moment, Bella was still glaring at their guest. 

“Leave us Bellatrix.”

She did as she was told immediately.

“Come, take a seat Severus. Tell me the news you were so eager to share, that you came to my home while I was out.”

With clear trepidation the younger man sat in an armchair opposite him. 

“Well?”

“My Lord, Dumbledore and the Order are assembling and making plans. They have recently been trying to upscale their recruitment and have decided to launch an offensive. They have not set a date or even a location yet. I believe they are trying to track down a meeting or some place they believe you are going to turn up. I think they are getting sick of always being on the defensive, or showing up when all the carnage has already taken place.”

Voldemort was not surprised by this news but it would be foolhardy of them to attempt it.

“Tell me Severus, did you see Rodolphus before he assassinated the minister? I know that you were obviously one of the first to know about the news once it had happened, but did you know anything before it happened?”

Severus frowned in confusion as he tried to predict where the conversation was going. It was obvious he was in trouble.

“My Lord, the last time I saw Rodolphus was at the death eater meeting a couple of days before, I had no prior knowledge.”

Voldemort nodded in acceptance of his explanation. “What about his wife? Did you have any contact with her? I wouldn’t blame you, Rodolphus didn’t take very much good care of her. I am sure she was probably quite lonely.”

“My Lord, the last time I saw her was at the same meeting in their manor. I would have little other reason for seeing her.”

Sometimes Snape’s naïveté at times was almost endearing. 

“It’s just very strange. After you reported what Lestrange had done, I went to his manor. He escaped a just punishment so retribution was carried out on his wife. A message needed to be sent that such failure is unacceptable. Whilst I was there I noticed something very odd.”

Snape raised an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“It was some powdered Chizpurfle carapace on the ground. A very unusual substance, highly prized amongst potion masters. Very rare.”

Although there was no change on the man’s expression, Voldemort was certain he had become shade paler. 

“Such a bizarre thing to find at Lestrange Manor. I highly doubt either one of them were planning to brew anything with it. It made me consider who could possibly make use of such a rare and valuable ingredient. I mean, it’s not used to make your average pepper up potion is it?”

“My Lord, there are lots of wizards that are capable with potions and the Lestrange’s are an ancient family, they have amassed a great collection of rarities. It would not surprise me if this included potion ingredients.” 

Voldemort drummed his fingers along the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right Severus. It does seem to be an awfully big coincidence though.”

The silence dragged on. He could see the younger man’s throat bobbing in anxiety. He didn’t enjoy this, he didn’t even want to be considering it. Severus was one of his best, for number of years he had been providing him with information, he had always completed his tasks. He was intelligent, skilled and a first rate spy. 

Voldemort had considered that it could just be paranoia, unfortunately power and paranoia came hand in hand. But there were just too many things going wrong, Dumbledore had too much of an advantage. 

He always prided himself on being rational, such paranoia did not attest to that. He found it difficult to be rational when it came to some people.

“What did you take from Lestrange manor?”

“My Lord? I am afraid you are mistaken, I was not there, I have not taken anything.”

“I gave Rodolphus a small black diary, just three days later he is dead and the diary is gone.”

The younger man was now shifting awkwardly. “My Lord, I promise you I have nothing to do with this. I can go back to the Order, see if they have found anything.”

“I am concerned that all this time you are spending with them has distracted you, has shifted your focus. Shifted your loyalties.”

By now he had reached for his wand. He could see Snape’s hand slowly move to his own. 

“You have to understand Severus, you are valuable to me. As, I am sure, you are valuable to them. I need you down in the dungeons where I can keep an eye on you, at least until I am sure where your loyalties lie.”

They both jumped up, wands raised. Impressively Severus managed to rebound three rapid curses. He spoke imploringly. 

“Please my Lord, reconsider this. Think of all the information I have been able to pass to you. It could take you years to get someone as close and as trusted by Dumbledore.”

Voldemort was reluctant to listen to any reason. “If my plans come to fruition, there will be no need, Dumbledore will be dead.”

“The rest of the Order trust me because Dumbledore trusts me, whether alive or dead, as long as I am not implicated.” Severus was starting to look a lot less collected than he usually appeared. 

The Dark Lord sent another barrage of curses, Snape seemed reluctant to retaliate. He merely blocked or rebounded the spells with impressive reflexes as he backed up in the direction of the door. 

His aim was not to maim his follower, he wanted him captured but not harmed. Severus was much too valuable for that. 

“I know you have been doubting me. I see the way you look at Bellatrix, the way you talk about her. You don’t believe I should keep her here. I can see it even now, I have no need for legilimency when you betray yourself in such a way. You have designs on setting her free. I just don't understand why.”

Severus seemed to struggle to come up with a response as he defended himself. “My Lord, I would never disobey your orders. It is my own weakness that has caused me to pity her but I would not defy your orders on this, you must believe me.”

Voldemort merely spat in his disbelief and disappointment. “This is the second time your pity for a woman has threatened my plans.”

“Please my Lord, I implore you to reconsider.”

The young professor seemed to be making a last ditch effort. When Voldemort merely responded by launching a crucio at him, Snape whirled around seemingly evaporating into thin air. 

It should have been impossible. There was no way Severus should have ever been able to leave his manor without permission. He wasn’t sure if it was a testament to Snape’s hidden talents or his own weakness with wards. In fact the professor should never have been able to get in in the first place. 

He launched a spell in his rage and the armchair Severus had been sat in exploded. Without much thought, he summoned Lucius. He called out to Bella whilst he was waiting. 

“Bellatrix.”

The dark haired woman was close by, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had been trying to eavesdrop. He pointed toward the exploded pieces of furniture.

“Clean that up.”

She disappeared to grab a broom and returned promptly. 

It didn’t take long for the pureblood to join them. 

“My Lord, how can I be of service?” He gave a slight incline of his head as he clutched onto his pompous walking cane, a glance of distain thrown toward Bella.  

Voldemort paced a few steps before returning to his previous position.“Snape has turned his back on us, he is now a target, along with the rest of the Order.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “My Lord, how can this be? All these years he has been loyal, a true Slytherin.” 

Dismissive of this he continued. “He has been turned to the other side, has spent too much time in their company and has been corrupted by them. You must inform the others, he is no longer to be trusted.”

The Dark Lord could see the younger man was struggling to believe this. He would never openly challenge him, not unless he wanted to risk being on the end of a vicious curse. 

“I will my Lord.”

“Gather a small group of death eaters, have Yaxley join you. I want you to find Snape’s home. If he is there, you must bring him to me, alive. If he is not, search it, keep anything of value for yourselves. If you find a small black diary, give it straight to me and you will be rewarded. It will redeem your failings with the goblins.” 

Lucius nodded but didn’t seem very enthusiastic about this mission. 

“Be careful, Severus is highly skilled, it would not do to underestimate him or think of him as a friend.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Then you are dismissed.” 

With a loud pop, the blonde man disappeared. Voldemort took a calming breath and sat down to watch his servant. She was in the process of carefully cleaning up the jagged pieces of wood, he still had not returned her wand to her. 

He was furious with Severus. Now he had lost one of his best followers and a excellent spy. He couldn’t understand why Snape would betray him, in fact part of him was still in denial. 

The Dark Lord knew he had not imagined the younger man’s desire to free Bellatrix. He watched her trying to sweep up the last of the splinters of wood. There was no way he could let her go. She belonged to him, Severus should have never even considered interfering. 

“You were right to distrust him.”

Bella paused crouched on the ground and looked up at him. He knew that she felt vindicated in her feeling against Snape. He felt she had some concept over how paranoid and mistrusting she had become, it must have felt like such a  relief to be right.

“He did not want to help you.”

She stood calmly, a large piece of wood in her hand. Despite suspecting Severus, she still looked hurt at the remark. 

“He fed you these lies but no one was coming to help you. If he managed to get you away from me, they would arrest you. You are now wanted, you have been complicit in a number of crimes. They believe you are helping me.”

Bellatrix looked horrified and confused at this revelation. “No, it can’t be.”

“Yes, by taking you away from me, he would have been guaranteeing you a cell in Azkaban, if you were lucky.”

She held onto the splinter of wood tightly, he could see a drop of blood coming from her fist. 

“At least you are safe here now. No good thinking on his deceitful schemes any longer.”

He was pleased when she sniffed, as if she was trying to hold back tears. All her time with him had hardened her, stopped her silly whining and crying. 

“You need to be careful, you are in danger from them. They are as keen to get to you as they are to me.”

She bowed her head, her thick mane of hair shielding her against his cruel words, her clasp on the wood hadn’t lessened despite the blood dripping to the floor. 

Voldemort stood and moved silently toward her. She started when he grasped her wrist, staring up at him as he opened her hand up to take the jagged wood from her. A long splinter had penetrated her palm and blood was dribbling down. With precise movements he wrenched it quickly out and she hissed in pain, trying to draw her hand back.

“The worst is over.” 

He murmured a simple healing spell and the wound closed over. It took him another minute to release her. 

 

 

* * *

 

With a silent pop, Voldemort apparated into the main foyer of his home. Flicking his wand the lanterns around the darkened room lit with a soft glow. He had been away for two days, his meeting with the goblins had been very unsuccessful. Particularly for the goblins, those brave enough to have attended now lay viciously slaughtered. 

Bargaining hadn’t worked and neither had threats. It meant he had truly lost his horcrux, unless he wanted to break into Gringotts. He had chosen the bank because it was an impenetrable fortress, despite his skill he was reluctant to take on such a task. It may not be worth losing his current mortal body just to collect a piece of his soul. 

As he moved through the manor, he saw light from the kitchen and dining room. It was the middle of the night, no one would be up, likely Bellatrix had simply forgotten to dim the lights. 

He headed in that direction, surprised to see his servant sat at the dining table, staring intently at a cup of tea in front of her. She was completely still, gazing at the drink as if it held some indefinable answer for her. She was again wearing her thin nightgown but had found a small woollen blanket to throw over her shoulders. Her thick, lustre hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, he wished she would wear it that way more often. She had obviously not realised he was back. She was much more relaxed now that he had been absent.

He felt mildly unsettled by the sight before him. It felt very domestic, as if she belonged there. As if this too was her home. 

For the briefest moment he wondered if this was what it was like for his followers. To return home after a murderous task to an awaiting wife, anxious about whether their husbands would return at all. It had a strange normalcy to it. 

He had never felt he was missing out, normality was just another word for mediocrity. Except when he was a very young boy. He had a vague sense of the deep seated jealousy he had when he saw other young children with their families, he had desired a loving mother to give him a cuddle when he came home from school and asked about his day. A father that even though he was tired after a day of work, still found time to tuck him into bed at night. He had coveted this, felt he had been shortchanged on something that everyone else had.

It took him years to realise what a blessing it was. He was free from distraction, by being denied normality he had risen above the rest, pushed past the mundane to excel and reach his zenith. 

He pushed down these thoughts as he watched the woman before him. When he cleared his throat, she jolted in fear. 

"Master, I hadn't realised you were back." 

She jumped up, trying to clear her cup away, the blanket around her shoulders falling off her shoulders, half down to the ground in her clumsiness. As he moved closer he could see the dark rings under her eyes, he didn't waste time dwelling on what could have been keeping her up.

"You may stay seated if you wish, I don't care if you exhaust yourself as long as you aren't disturbing me or slacking in your work." 

Bellatrix seemed undecided about whether she should sit again. 

He moved toward her, with slow deliberate movements he lifted the blanket that had half fallen off her shoulders taking the corners and wrapped them completely around her. The ends of her soft, inky black curls tickled his fingers. She stared determinedly at the ground but didn't move away. 

Gazing at her, he was glad that she was his.

From just below the blanket he could see the remnants of the puncture marks given to her by the vampire. He traced them gently, annoyed with himself for looking for the excuse just to touch her and the fact that he knew he couldn't take it any further. 

"It won't ever heal completely."

"I know."

Realising himself, he took a step back away from her. There was no reason why he should draw himself closer to temptation. Although she was a very beautiful and skilled witch, other wise he would never have chosen her, she was not worthy. If he were to fall into the foolish trap of desiring someone, it should be someone of high value, someone of noble pure birth. Whilst he knew in his heart that blood wasn't entirely an indicator of value, everything he stood for, everything his followers believed followed that. 

"Does it still frighten you to think of it?"

He wasn't asking out of concern, merely curiosity. 

Bellatrix pulled the blanket tightly around herself, hiding the scar from his sight. In. An attempt of self-comfort. "I...I have a lot of nightmares. Sometimes about that."

It seemed to mortify her that she admitted such a thing. He could understand that, no one liked exposing their weaknesses. Underneath he could still sense fear coming from her. It was difficult to determine the source, it seemed not even she was sure, there was just the undercurrent sense of danger. It was strange to him, how with the briefest glimpse he could see her fears, the sense of unknown dark, terrifying, undefinable things after her. Baffling that her fear of him should be so eclipsed. Perhaps she needed a reminder that there was no greater threat to her wellbeing than himself. 

Warring inside him was the need to take and take, battling against the nearly consuming urge to destroy. The fact that he could want her so, meant it was imperative he destroy her. Such distraction, such preoccupation was very dangerous. Sensing the sudden change in his intentions, Bella shrunk back from him. Like a snake he darted at her grasping a hold of the blanket where she had been clasping it tightly around her throat. He smashed his fist into her face, her own movement meant she was struck in the cheek. A second strike managed to catch her just above the eye, a deep gash opened up. 

Bellatrix let out a cry at the pain and stumbled back landing on the ground when he suddenly realised her. His energy had been spent and he couldn't bear to look at her anymore. 

"Clean yourself up and go to bed."

Striding from the room he left her whimpering on the floor as he massaged his bloody knuckles. As soon as he reached his own rooms he stripped and jumped into the shower. It didn't take long for the blood to wash off. It seemed not all of it was hers, he had opened a wound on his own hand. 

He let the lukewarm water wash away all the frustrations of the day. The business with the goblins was messy and very unproductive. Slaughtering them all had only given him an ounce of relief at the time, now his frustration had returned. Opening and closing his sore fist, he massaged it through his hair. He wished he could scrub away all the misfortunes of the day.

Voldemort was irritated with himself for attacking his servant. He had not wanted to physically hurt her in such a way. It served little purpose and it only stood as a testament to his own lack of self-restraint. He did not derive the same pleasure for punishing her as he had, he already had her obedience. Her loyalty would be much more difficult to master.

Not feeling much better once he had come out of the shower, he threw on light sleeping clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed. He knew tonight was going to be a restless night but he needed to be fresh to be able to make some inspired plans the next day. Things were rapidly deteriorating around him and if he didn't act fast, he would no longer be impervious to harm.

Sighing to himself Voldemort reached into the top drawer of his bedside cabinet which would only open to his hand. From inside he pulled out Bella's wand. A truly unique looking thing. He wondered vaguely if the wand that thrummed between his fingers recognised him as its master as Bellatrix did. He knew quite little about wands but he could instinctively tell the wand would be hard to master and even more difficult to tame to an owners will. He knew Bellatrix was skilled enough to harness it to her own.

An idea strengthening in his mind, compelled him to find her. By now she had obviously returned to her attic room. When he climbed the stairs and pushed open the door slowly, she was sat on her bed tentatively massaging the deep bruises on her face. When she looked up, her expression was a mixture of fear and hatred. It had been such a long time since he had seen her look at him like that. 

He held her wand up, like a prize and her coldness melted instantly. 

"My wand."

He shook his head cruelly. "You mean _my_ wand _."_

Bellatrix bit her bottom lip, he could tell it was to stop herself from speaking out of turn. 

"I think you have learnt your lesson, you can have it back."

It wasn't to assuage his guilt, it was more useful for him, for her to have her wand. It made sense.

Bellatrix eagerly stood from the bed but he merely held it out in his hand to her. Suspicions flickered through her mind but in the end, her desire to have her wand back overwhelmed her cautiousness. As she approached, her hand outstretched, the wand jumped from his hand into hers. Her face lit up as a rush of magic flowed through her.

Voldemort was far more interested in the loyalty her wand had for her, even as he had her under his thumb the wand knew who it answered to. 

She stood before him, her arms down at her side as she barely contained her excitement. He could see the tip of her wand glowing in various colours as her body trembled with power. 

It seemed with his gift, she had forgiven him.

The Dark Lord took a further step closer, her wand sparked as he lifted his own but she made no attempt to resist. He brushed his fingers over her undamaged cheek, holding her face in place as his wand traced the large, blackening bruises on her face. 

They disappeared in seconds, the swelling noticeably reduced. Even as he lowered his wand, his hold on her remained. Emboldened, she was staring right up at him, her gaze undefinable. He could never say the words but he was sure she could sense his regret. 

Her mouth softly opened as he traced his finger along her plump lower lip. His desire was going into overdrive and he was struggling to remind himself why this would be a bad idea. It would be simple enough, he could obliviate her afterward, a tricky thing to get right but at that moment he had little concern for the consequences. If she were to reject him, something that was entirely possible if she felt brave enough, he had the option of the imperio. 

Voldemort had always risen to challenges, he wasn't against playing dirty but with Bella, he wanted to solve the puzzle. He wanted her obedience, even her desire in this as well. The imperius curse would feel like a hollow victory. 

Bellatrix’s breathing had become ragged, he had no idea if it was from arousal or fear. Possibly both. 

His hand started to drift down her jaw to her throat, it bobbed delicately below his skin. Just as he considered tasting her, an almighty crash, like the cracking of thunder, forced them apart. The ceiling above them cracked and splintered as he hissed in fury. 

The wards around his manor had just been breeched. 

 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

  

The Dark Lord grasped the hand of his servant, dragging her behind him as he strode toward the stairs to return to the rest of the house. The old manor groaned as it shifted, several of the wards placed around it collapsing. 

“Keep your wand out and raised.”

The command was sharp and simple and as expected she followed without question. 

By the time they reached the kitchen it was evident that whomever was daring to attack his home was set on breaking through the door. The windows currently remained impenetrable but judging by how the ceiling had been splintering in the attic, it likely wouldn't be long until they could enter through that route.

They managed to pass the large main double doors which were shuttering under the pressure of magic and had begun their ascent of the grand staircase when the first of the intruders breeched. 

He shoved Bellatrix none too gently behind him, she tripped on the top stair but righted herself quickly. 

Three men pushed through into the main foyer. He recognised all of them; leading was Moody, a battle weary auror, behind were Potter and Longbottom. Both of whom wives he had personally killed. 

The Manor shook with another furious blast and he knew that Dumbledore was close, likely it was him who had felled his main wards. 

All three launched into battle, furiously sending spells toward him. Voldemort kept them at bay with ease, there was a reason he was as revered and feared as he was. 

Easily deflecting and returning fire, he forced the men on the defensive, which gave him the split second he needed to obliterate the main staircase. It exploded out with the force of a bomb, debris burst out in all directions severing the easiest route to the bedrooms. He noted vaguely that a particularly large chunk of wood appeared to have hit Potter in the chest, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been enough to kill him. His enemies were obscured behind the dust and detritus. 

When he turned on his heel, Bellatrix appeared awestruck.  

“Get moving, head towards my chambers.”

“What’s happening?”

“It’s the Order, they have come to try arrest us, or kill us if they have to.”

His companion blanched but he paid no attention. He led the way at a rapid pace, he wasn’t prepared for this fight. He could handle the Order, in fact it was to his benefit to have them show up, he could pick them off faster than his followers ever could. 

It was Dumbledore who was making him uneasy. He had no doubt of his own power, skill and intelligence. He was the greatest Dark Wizard there was. However his cautious nature wouldn’t allow him to forget that it was Dumbledore who thwarted Grindelwald, a capable dark wizard with entire armies of dark creatures and inferi. He had brought Europe to it’s knees but one battle with Dumbledore had brought his whole campaign to a dead stop. If Voldemort were to face Dumbledore, he would rather have the upper-hand. 

They were in the main corridor leading to his rooms when he turned at the sound of a screech. Potter, obviously not as injured as he had suspected had somehow caught up with them and had taken the opportunity to hurl a slicing curse at her. It had been enough to cause blood to trickle down her left leg. 

Potter was swishing his wand, attempting to cast another curse when Bella responded in kind. Caught by surprise, he only just had time to deflect it and the wall beside him was scored deeply. 

Satisfied that she was able to hold her own, he continued into his bedroom to collect the diadem. It was vital he retrieve it, it was likely what the Order were after. They would never usually dare such a doomed mission. 

“Potter, you fool. Always acting before thinking. I told you, not her.”

Voldemort froze at the voice. The drawl clearly belonged to his previously trusted follower, Severus Snape. 

“Bella, come with us, this is your chance.”

Abandoning his plan to gather the diadem, he tore back out into the wide hallway. Spells continued to fly, splintering the plastered walls and crackling in the air as they clashed. Bellatrix looked ferocious as she bore down on the men. Snape was merely conjuring protective charms whilst James was giving his all. 

Severus paled significantly when he saw Voldemort appear behind Bella. 

“Please come with us Bellatrix, you’ll be safe.” Counter to this statement, James sent a rather nasty hex toward her. “Stop attacking her, you imbecile. If you hurt her I will take great enjoyment in hurting you.”

Puffing and out of breath, the other man could barely respond. “I am just trying to restrain her. She is wild.”

The Dark Lord smiled malevolently at the remark, it was cut short when with a loud pop, Dumbledore appeared in his room. 

“Dumbledore.” He snarled at the older man, forgetting the other battle. 

“You have been very busy Tom. To have resorted to mutilating your soul.”

They eyed each other for a moment. “So you have been finding them, destroying them. You think that will be enough to stop me?”

In his stern, wise old man routine the headmaster responded. “We will stop you Tom. All the desperate measures you are taking are only condemning you further. We will be taking her with us.”

He could hear the sounds of Bellatrix trying to hold her position, she was a highly capable witch but was only going last so long, especially if Severus decided to really engage. She was skilled and intelligent but had not been formally trained to duel, she would struggle against the two wizards. Before him was the only man who could possibly thwart him and between them lay his horcrux. His last safe horcrux. 

He needed to make a decision. 

There was no way he could let Bellatrix go, no way she could escape him with all the knowledge she had acquired. But in the end he knew his soul should and would come first.

Despite this logic he turned on his heel, after hurtling a scorching curse toward Dumbledore to distract him. Moody, Longbottom and a third wizard had finally reached the corridor and it was clear that Bella was barely holding her position, she would very soon be overwhelmed. She darted forward, her wand waving with frenzy and her face alight with fire. She was fighting for her life.

He grasped her, the shock made her miss her mark and she was hit by three stupefy’s and unidentified fourth spell before his fiendfyre curse barrelling down the hall sent them running for cover. He saw Potter, the brave fool, try to launch one more curse toward them. Instead he was thrown backwards after being hit by a killing curse. With reflexes that made him proud, he obliterated Dumbledore’s spell as it whipped through the air toward them. Instead of countering it, he summoned the diadem. Now that it contained his soul, it answered to his will. 

His wand slashed through the air toward his bedroom, the walls and ceiling imploded in the room as the structure collapsed. As soon as he grasped the treasure in his hand and holding his unconscious servant to him in an iron grip, he flew out the window. The large stained window at the end of the corridor exploded outward as they escaped and he landed heavily on the well kept lawn, half dropping Bella as he struggled to hold on. He had yet to properly master flying unaided, especially whilst carrying a dead weight. Looking back he saw the fire was spreading extensively through the building. 

An order member, Dawlish he believed was his name, was stood just ahead of them, he had obviously been involved in destroying the wards. He spun around as they landed and raised his wand in sheer blind panic. Before he could do anything, Voldemort retaliated, sending an Avada Kedavra, killing the man. It was only then he saw the angry man off to his side and recognised the family resemblance, Sirius Black. 

The younger, wiry man shouted in outrage at his felled companion. 

“You killed him, you bastard!” He stopped short when he noticed Bellatrix in his clasp. “Bella, you stupid bitch.” He stated running toward them again, his wand raised in the air ready for attack as the huge manor behind him shuddered and collapsed, imploding on itself. 

With furious determination he apparated with his diadem and Bella, ignoring the irate Sirius lunging toward them. 

There should be no trace of evidence left.

 

 

* * *

 

The Dark Lord apparated directly into the grand entrance of Malfoy manor. Lucius strode out of the parlour in alarm, taking a moment to try to determine what was going on. 

“My Lord?”

Voldemort was still clutching onto Bellatrix who remained unconscious. 

“Fetch your wife. Bring me an invigorating potion as well.” 

Lucius frowned in consternation but called an elf who promptly appeared. He passed on the instructions as Voldemort carried Bella into the parlour and set her down on the rouge leather Chesterfield sofa. He waved his wand above her. 

“Enervate.”

His dark haired servant merely groaned. He slapped her lightly on the cheek and her eyes fluttered open for a moment but she was not restored to full consciousness. She was lucky that she had not been injured more substantially when facing numerous opponents. Multiple stunning spells could be known to kill unlucky witches and wizards. 

Glancing at his hand, he saw it was damp with blood. He had forgotten the slicing curse. It only took him a quick moment to heal the laceration but he was concerned blood loss may have been contributing to her impaired consciousness. 

With a crack, a house elf had appeared in the room. Lucius obligingly took the potion from the creature and handed it to his master as requested. 

“Get me a blood replenishing potion as well, then get that elf away from here.”

As he was pouring the potion into his semi conscious servants mouth, the telltale sound of high heels approaching could be heard. 

“Lucius darling… my Lord?” 

It sounded as if she was very confused about her uninvited guests. 

“Master.” Bellatrix seemed to have come around and was now trying to sit up and look around their surroundings. He stood and turned to his host when he realised she was now out of danger. Just as he turned away she vomited on the floor.

Lucius hissed in disgust. “Vile woman.”

Though Voldemort didn’t appreciate such a human reaction, he understood that being sick could be a mild response to serious spell damage. Malfoy would just use any excuse to have a dig.

“Enough. I need you to gather two small bags of clothes. Include your best black cloaks, nothing else too fancy. Put some food in, polyjuice potion and best to include a tent as well just in case.”

Narcissa hurried off to complete his request. 

Lucius watched curiously for a moment as he helped Bellatrix to get her balance and stand. She faltered slightly and had to lean heavily on his arm to maintain her balance. 

“Come here, I need to summon Barty then ensure your wife collects these items.”

“Certainly my Lord.” Malfoy immediately pulled up his sleeve bearing his mark, Voldemort pressed his wand to it and the younger man had to hold back a hiss of pain. When he had been released the blonde man tentatively continued. “I was hoping to talk to you my Lord when the opportunity arose. I am not sure that now is the optimal time but I wanted to let you decide this. I think I have found a new spy for us.”

The pureblood looked far too pleased with himself. Nevertheless it was promising but the Dark Lord had to dampen down his expectations, the betrayal of his last spy still fresh. 

“Pray tell who is this person?”

“His name is Peter Pettigrew, my Lord. He is friends with many of the people fighting against us. I think he would be very valuable.”

The name didn’t mean much to him, obviously this man kept well below the radar, very clever in this volatile time. It was promising. “Tell him to come to your manor now, I will see him once I have met with Barty.”

Lucius bowed with a proud smirk. A loud pop from the entrance hall indicated Barty had arrived. 

“My Lord.” The young, energetic young man was out of breath as he burst into the room, his eyes alive with excitement. 

With a sweep of his hand, he dismissed his host. He noticed Bellatrix fidgeting uncomfortably as if she didn’t know whether she should stay or not. 

“Sit down before you fall down.” When he turned back to Crouch, he noticed him glaring at her. Before he could say anything, Barty preempted him. 

“My Lord, are you looking for updates regarding my fathers campaign? I have to inform you it is going better than even he had been expecting. Luckily he is too self-assured to even wonder where all this sudden support has come from.”

Voldemort enjoyed his followers distain and mocking of his father, it was something he could easily understand. “No Barty, although I am pleased to hear this, it is not the reason I called you here.” 

He held out his empty hand. “I require some of your hair.”

Barty looked very confused but complied immediately, yanking at the hair on the back of his head. A tangle of hair came away with some effort. “Is this enough my Lord?”

Taking it, he nodded. “Yes, it will do. I want you to go to that inn down in Knockturn Alley, the Inn Cantation I believe it’s called. Make a reservation under your name, two nights should be enough.”

With a sideways glance at the woman sat on the couch, he questioned. “Two rooms, my Lord?”

Without acknowledging Bella at all, he answered. “One. Unless of course there are suites, I doubt anywhere is Knockturn has anything resembling luxury. No, one room is better, we don't want to draw unwanted attention to you Barty so close to the election. Now you may go.”

Although it was obvious that his follower was not entirely happy about this request, he said nothing further on the matter. “I will do that right away my Lord.”

He vanished with a loud pop. 

Voldemort turned back to his servant, about to speak when a knock at the door stopped him. Malfoy stepped into the parlour.

“My Lord, Pettigrew is here, shall I bring him in?”

“Yes.”

The door creaked open further and a short, rather pudgy looking man stepped in. He was trembling furiously, his rodent-like face snivelling and weak looking. It was a disappointing start. 

“Come closer Pettigrew, Lucius leave us.”

The man reluctantly approached closer, Voldemort could practically smell his fear and noticed a small bruise below his left eye.

“So you are the man that Malfoy thought could work for me. I am unimpressed with his taste.” 

Peter flinched as he waved his hand, his wand held loosely in his grasp. “Tell me, why should I let you join me, what could you possibly have to offer me?”

“Umm, uh my Lord. I am, I could give you information. I can offer help that you need.” The man himself even seemed unsure of what he was offering. 

“There are many people who wish to serve me, I see nothing special about you. What information can you give me? Who are you in contact with?”

Detecting the underlying threat in his words, Peter gulped and spoke even faster. “I, I have been to some Order of the Phoenix meetings, I could tell you somethings about it.”

Voldemort sneered in derision at the pathetic man before him. “I can see how spineless you are, I doubt the Order have much more use for you than I do. You are not worth my time.”

He raised his wand straight at the snivelling man, who immediately bowed down on the ground before him, begging for mercy and looking as though he was going to piss himself. 

“Please my Lord, I swear I can give you useful information. I have friends who are involved in the Order, who know things. I will do anything, I swear it, please.”

He sobbed in fear and Voldemort spat out in disgust. “Tell me then, who these friends are, you pathetic coward.” 

“Uh, Black, Sirius Black and James Potter. Lupin as well, he is a werewolf helping them.”

Surprisingly the foul little man did have some value, it just took a bit of prodding. Of course, Voldemort knew he could not trust the prostrate man, he had loyalty to no one. 

“Potter is already dead, your information is old.”

Pettigrew glanced up at him for a brief second, almost looking pained, before realising himself. 

“Tell me more about this werewolf, what is his full name?”

The man on the floor seemed to chew his tongue for a second before responding. “His name is Remus Lupin, he has been a werewolf since he was a child. He has been helping Dumbledore by joining new werewolf packs and getting information and turning them away from you.”

It was undeniably clever, he had never expected Dumbledore to have a werewolf on his side. He had never heard of this Lupin but would have to pass on the name and hunt him out. The werewolves were a powerful, vicious ally, he did not want anyone interfering with that.

“Maybe you do have some use.”

“Yes, yes my Lord, I do. Anything you want, I can help.”

“Anything else? Their current plans? Where to find them?”

The man on the ground shook his head in terror. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know about any plans.”

“You are trying my patience. What about Snape? Do you know anything about him?”

Peter wiped a grubby hand across his face which was becoming damp with sweat. “He, he is a spy. He works for Dumbledore.”

“And Dumbledore trusts him?”

“Yes.” His voice wavered for a moment. “He trusts him but there are many in the order who don’t. It’s his fascination with dark magic and his mean personality. And, and he works with you. Some believe he is tricking Dumbledore to thing you have found him out, that it is all a ploy to learn more to report back to you.” He flinched again as if expecting some punishment for his last comment.

“I feel you have already given all the useful information you could provide. You are a cowardly, disloyal, contemptible man. What further use could I possibly have for you?”

“Oh no, no my Lord. Wait, I have skills, I can find things out for you.”

Voldemort sneered at the near sobbing man. “Skills?”

“Yes, yes my Lord. I am an unregistered animagus.”

The Dark Lord nearly burst out laughing at the statement. Legilmency confirmed it was the truth. He saw he was friends with the men as he claimed, they didn’t appear to hold him in much regard but trusted him nonetheless.

“Well _Wormtail,_ it seems after all, you may have some use.”

He could hear the sigh of relief from the man still crouched on the floor. 

“Stand up.”

“Thank you, my Lord, thank you. You are so gracious.”

The simpering was beginning to grate on him. “You will keep in contact with Malfoy. I expect you to give him updates every other day. You must work to ingratiate yourself with them, become more involved in their activities and find out their plans. Do this and you will be rewarded greatly, you may even become deserving of taking my mark.”

Pettigrew didn’t appear particularly happy about this prospect. 

“If you fail me though, I will destroy you. You will suffer pain beyond your imagination before I personally kill you. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

“Leave. Tell Malfoy he can come in on your way out.”

The Dark Lord let out a long sigh as he was left alone. It was only as he turned and saw Bellatrix staring at him from the couch that he remembered she was there. 

“Worried about your last cousin?”

The spite was a reflex but she didn’t say anything. Just stared at him with those deep, haunting eyes that seemed to see a lot more than they should. Before anything more could be said, Lucius returned. 

“My Lord, I brought the items you requested. Fortunately we still have a couple of vials of polyjuice, it’s not much but they can be tricky to get ahold of, especially as… well with Snape gone, it’s going to be a lot more challenging.”

Voldemort nodded, taking the bag from him and pulling out one of the vials of potion. Without saying anything, he added a couple of strands of Barty Crouch’s hair. It fizzed for a moment before he handed it to Bellatrix. 

She merely stared at it astounded until he prompted her. “Take it Bella.”

Tentatively she took the proffered potion. “You want me to drink it?”

“Obviously.”

Screwing up her eyes and taking a steadying breath she took two big gulps. He snatched it off her when she gasped and bent over herself on the seat. She cried out in pain as her body began to morph and change. Her hair shortened as her limbs lengthened, her skin darkened a shade and her face became longer. 

When she looked with at him, he was gazing down at the face of Barty Crouch, it was disturbing to say the least. 

He pulled out a robe from the bag, one that had clearly been included for him and handed it to her. “Change into this.”

She glanced uncomfortably between the two men. He almost wanted to chuckle at her.

“You have a man’s body now. You should have no problem changing.”

Nevertheless he turned to Lucius. “I will be relocating, you will still be able to contact me should the need arise. That will be all.” Clearly dismissing him, he decided to give Bella some privacy despite the body change by leaving for the library. 

‘“I will be back in five minutes, do not leave this room.”  

One advantage Malfoy Manor was the immense library, a veritable collection that he knew was barely looked at by the owners. He skimmed the books quickly, grabbing a small pile to take with him and returned to Bellatrix. 

“Come here, we are going.”

She picked up the bag and moved toward him. He had never seen Barty look so reserved and reluctant to be in his close company. He pulled his cloak tighter, lifting the hood and looped his arm under hers, apparating them into a darkened alley.

Ensuring his hood completely obscured his face, he spoke in a low tone to his companion. “We will go into the inn, you need to do the talking. Remember you are Barty Crouch, you have already reserved a room. Do not raise any suspicions.”

She nodded in understanding and they headed to the dim old inn. The pub on the ground floor was pretty busy, a number of shady characters were conversing and enjoying their drinks. Bellatrix approached the old elf behind the counter. Despite her best attempts to appear comfortable and confident, he could still recognise her little mannerisms. 

“I reserved a room earlier today, I would like to collect the key please.” She coughed awkwardly as she realised the man she was imitating was unlikely to be so polite.

The house elf paid no attention and slid the key over to her. “Room 8, it was the last room so unfortunately overlooks a muggle street. I did knock a generous amount off for you.”

“Okay.” She took the key, clearly resisting the urge to thank him. 

“It’s just the stairs behind me and the end of the hall on the left. Let me know if you need anything.” 

The elf glanced at him under his heavy cloak for a moment before smiling hospitably at Bella. He nudged Bella, it was unlikely she knew what he meant by the signal so he forced the thought into her head. 

She shuddered at the intrusion but asked. “I would prefer that there are no interrupts, please keep the elves out, even when I am not there.”

“Certainly Mr Crouch.”

It took a moment for Bella to remember she didn’t look like herself and she led the way, key in hand. He followed after her, a few customers glanced in his direction but paid little mind, there were frequently much more unusual guests in Knockturn alley.

The room was surprisingly airy, all wood but clearly had been recently updated. A number of candles were burning on the far wall. 

It looked like they were back to the same bed.

He threw his hood back and levitated his cloak onto a hook on the back of the door. 

“It’s late, you have exerted a lot of energy and hit with a number of spells. It probably best you get some rest.” He nodded toward the bed, he was keen to join her but not in her current body. That would be far to strange. It wouldn't take her long to change back.

Bellatrix disappeared into the bathroom and came out wearing one of his t-shirts and shorts. It didn’t look strange on Barty but she still seemed awkward. Tentatively she climbed into one side of the bed and settled under the duvet. After a few minutes her deep rhythmic breathing told him she was in deep sleep.

Throwing the books onto the small desk, he skimmed through them for any clue as to the whereabouts of those he seeked. He tried to push down the simmer bubbles of rage in his blood, furious that they had dared attack him. It wouldn’t take long to exact his revenge on them in a most bloodthirsty way. In the small hours, just before the sun was about to start rising, and he was considering retiring, he was disturbed by a strange noise. Before he realised it was coming from his companion, it turned into a scream.

Dumping the ancient book down, he ran to her. She let out a terrible, grief stricken scream and on instinct he crouched down beside the bed and shook her awake. His nerves couldn't bear the sound. 

“Reggie.” 

It was murmured as she returned to consciousness, he only processed what she had said by the time she had fully awakened. Although it didn't appear she was entirely with it, for as soon as her opened eyes spotted his darkened form looming over her, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him with a strength he wouldn't have thought physically possible for her. 

“Reggie.” She said it again, this time was a breath of relief rather than the lace of grief and pain she had whilst still half dreaming. 

Perhaps his awkwardness, his rigidity in response to her touch made her realise he was not who she believed he was. When she slowly, anxiously pulled away from him, the open vulnerability that was there shut down completely as if a shutter had come down. She was now fully aware of who he was. It was as if for that brief moment, he had really seen her. Unfortunately he was afraid he would never see her without that mask again. As if she was hiding the best of herself behind a mirror, reflecting his impassivity back at him.  

“Sorry.” Her apology was whispered so low that he almost missed it. She loosened the rest of her hold on him and drew back.

Impulsively he held her close, glad that she had returned to her own form by now. She seemed so small in his clothes, the t-shirt completely oversized. He brushed her curls back off her face as she quietly cried, a few tears running in streaks down her cheeks. He didn't know what to do, her reaction gave him a strange unpleasant sensation in his lower stomach. The only thing he could think to do was to try and give her some comfort, to stop her unhappiness. He knew that hugs were something that people did in this situation so he squeezed the arm wrapped around her back to her waist. 

“Shhh.”

She didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt. With a small hand on his chest, almost pushing him away, she looked up at him with her tear streaked eyes.

“How could you? How could you be so cruel? I hate you.”

She sobbed loudly and he knew she was reliving the death of her cousin. He had never really seen her properly grieve. 

He didn’t know how to respond. The young man betrayed him, handed to Dumbledore his horcrux and put his immortality in jeopardy. He got exactly what he deserved. 

But he couldn’t say any of that to Bellatrix. 

“Hush now, what’s done is done.”

She pushed away from him entirely as he tried to cradle her, the way he had seen some of his victims do to to reassure their wives just before he slaughtered them both. Shuffling to the other side of the bed, she lay down with her back to him. Despite the silence, he could tell she was still crying. 

Unhappy with her rejection of his attempts at comfort, he climbed into the bed where she had been, the sheets warm from her body heat. She didn’t react as he settled behind her, his arm slung over her waist.

He lay like that for several long minutes, certain she had drifted back off to sleep as he was about to join her, when she whispered. It was spoken so softly, he half believed she was whispering to the darkness that had settled around them rather than to him. 

“I feel like everyone is trying to kill me.”

She was justified in believing that, after all they had only just fought the Order whom he had convinced her were hunting her too. It didn’t pass his notice how uncomfortable she had been changing into Barty, he had half wondered if she had forgotten he had beaten her within an inch of her life the last time they saw each other. Even with her paranoia, he knew she was justified to feel that way. 

“I will not let anyone kill you. As long as you are with me, you are safe.”

It was au uncertain but dangerous truth. He was too weak to end her, too reluctant to kill her himself and he could never let her leave him. 

He felt her shifting beside him, turning around again to face him, maybe to look for some dishonesty. He didn't think she could even see him in the darkness but she wrapped her own arm over his waist and pressed her forehead to his chest, right over his heart beat.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

“Get up Bellatrix.” 

Voldemort was already dressed and sat at the small desk in their shared room idly flicking through one of the open books. He was determined that today was going to be a day of action. He was down to one horcrux in his possession, which he was keeping securely within his cloak. 

His companion groaned and stretched underneath the covers. He could understand her tiredness, it was still early morning. It seemed to take a lot of effort for her to climb out of the bed, he noticed she was still wearing his clothes. 

“There should be something in the bag for you to wear. You will be taking more polyjuice so wear men’s clothes.”

She nodded quietly, looking very pale as she opened up the bag. He felt some concern that she was still feeling the ill effects of some spell damage, especially when she suddenly bolted into the bathroom and heaved. 

It might have been kinder to leave her there, especially if she wasn’t well but he had no patience for sickness. 

Bellatrix sheepishly stepped out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth. “Sorry master, I think it was from the fight, I feel a bit off.”

He took a moment to look her up and down, to make sure there were no external signs of injury. She looked the same, if only tireder. 

“Just get dressed, I have left the potion on the side of the sink for you as well. Be quick, we have much to do today.”

Doing as she was told, she was ready in just a couple of minutes. He threw on his own cloak, obscuring his face and led her out of the inn into the public. 

The darkened, narrow alleyways were largely empty, only a few miscreants lay sleeping on ground. Everybody else was generally too afraid to be out, particularly in such a dodgy area. 

They weaved their way through the streets until they reached a row of closed down shops. The one on the end was boarded up, someone had graffitied a tag about mudbloods across it and for all intents it appeared abandoned. The Dark Lord knew better. 

Pulling out his wand, keeping it discreetly within his sleeve, he forced open the door. Low candle light emanated from the interior and he went inside, Bella following behind him. There were rows of half melted candles all along the walls and he cautiously made his way inside. 

Halfway down the hall was a door leading into a large room, in there a solitary person sat. The walls of the room were covered in books and candles and an array of golden relics were dangling from the ceiling. In the corner on a stand was perched a large colourful bird who was busy cleaning his feathers.

Sitting at a long table covered in a number of strange herbs and spices, gold ornaments, books and small instruments was a woman. She was a beautiful, olive skinned woman, around his age but wore it very well. Her shimmering black hair lay straight down her back and her thin reddish dress showed off her voluptuous curves. She was adorned in gold, a large ornate crown on her head, wrist cuffs and dangling earrings. They looked warm as they reflected the candle light and along with the burning incense, had a hypnotic effect. 

“Well hello, _my Lord._ ”

Even with her accent, the title she used was clearly mocking. She pushed the ingredients she had been using away from her, the long table was messy and cluttered, and smiled up at her two uninvited guests. The large bird in the corner squawked loudly. 

“Hush Cuchavira. No need to be rude.”

There was a musical jangle as she turned her head to look at the bird, the long gold chains hanging from the crown shifting with her hair. She turned her attention back to Voldemort, leaning confidently on the edge of the table, her generous bosom made more obvious. 

“Now, what exactly brings you here to my home?”

She gave a friendly smile but he could detect a threatening undercurrent. 

He raised an eyebrow in challenge at her. “I think you already know, I am sure I have not been the first to seek you out.”

“Not the first to seek me but certainly only one of few to actually find me.” 

He moved to stand directly in front of her on the other side of the table, making use of the height difference to try and intimidate her. 

“You know where he is? Where I can find him?”

She flashed him that toothy grin again. 

“What makes you think I have any idea where he is?”

He tapped one of the ornate golden ornaments dangling from the ceiling and it gave a tinkle as the golden reflection moved across the room. The woman before him seemed unimpressed with the disrespect shown to her sacred relics. 

“You worship this stuff, rumour has it that it was your clan that helped him create it. You used to scour the deepest jungles for it, there were myths that centuries ago you could create it. Mould it for your own uses. The art was lost and branches of you moved to Europe, to seek those who claimed to understand it, to forge it with him.”

Her eyes flashed for a moment before she leaned back nonchalantly.  

“You have no understanding at all. What he achieved was divine. To turn the basic metallic elements of the earth into pure gold, the essence of the sun. The conductor of some of the greatest magic. You only want to corrupt it.”

He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “You silly woman, I have no need for gold. I am not a greedy man, I would be more than willing to share this with you.”

It was evident that she did not believe in his generosity and she spoke knowingly. “Yes, I understand why you really want it. You British, you do not have the right understanding of death. It is the most natural of processes, to be welcomed at the end of an honourable life. Even Flamel has held onto life for an unnaturally long time.”

Her judgement was trying his patience and he leaned with his hands onto the edge of the table. “Tell me now where can I find Flamel.”

She sneered spitefully. “As if I know, only the legends surrounding him have been passed down. The last of us to have met him was my grandfather.”

“That is too convenient. You must know of the process of making it.” 

He pulled out his wand, resting it on the table and was irked when she seemed unimpressed. 

“Of course we don’t, only one person has ever created the stone, the Elixir of Life and that is Nicholas Flamel. I have access to the same texts you do, it is only stories we have been left with.”

He practically hissed at her. “Lies.”

He raised his wand, ready to strike when she raised her wrists, the thick gold bracelets deflecting the simple magic away. Bella had to duck quickly to avoid the rebound. 

Trying a different tact, he dove into her mind using legilimency to find out what she knew directly. He grasped his head in pain as the golden crown seemed to act as some sort of barrier, she didn’t even need occlumency. Though he may have underestimated the golden trinkets, he doubted they would do much against a real curse. 

“ _Crucio.”_

She was thrown back off her chair and let out an agonised shriek. The large multicoloured bird in the corner, flew off his perch toward Voldemort, trying to flap and scratch at his face. 

The Dark Lord released the spell after only a second and struck the bird with a killing curse. It flopped down into the ground, wings splayed open. 

The woman opposite shrieked again, this time not under the influence of his curse. 

“You bastard. You killed him.” She ran around the large desk toward her pet but was thrown back against the wall before she could reach him. 

“Tell me what you know.”

He could see she was about to sneer at him so gave her a taste of his magic again. She shrieked and rolled around on the floor, ripping at her skin with the pain. 

“Stop, please stop. I don’t know what you want.”

The curse ended and she tried to catch her breath as tears rolled down her face. “I don’t know where he is, I don’t know how to make it.”

He smirked as he knew he had worn her down, her stubbornness dissolved and he had the upper hand. “Why don’t you tell me what you do know.”

She had pulled the bird towards herself and cradled the dead thing as if it were a baby. “All I have heard are rumours, he has always been a keen fan of opera. There was a whisper going around, someone believed they once saw him half a century ago at the opera theatre in Devon. They thought it was likely he was living in the area, surrounded by the countryside.”

The Dark Lord couldn’t help the smug look he knew was on his face. He believed she didn’t know anything further but he couldn’t risk her managing to get a message out that he was searching for him. 

“ _Avada kedavra_.”

The gold tinkled again as she slumped back against the wall. With a flick of his wand he cracked one of the shelves and the numerous burning candles tumbled to the ground, immediately the flames spread across the floor. 

He turned back to Bellatrix, he had never seen Barty look so ashen and silent. “We need to leave.”

Leading them out of the house which was quickly becoming an inferno, they wound through the alleys until they came out into Diagon Alley. It was approaching midday but much less busy than it usually was. People were becoming too scared to even take their families out to the most popular places. 

A few gave him sideways looks before shuffling off, clearly suspicious of the heavily cloaked stranger. 

They passed Gringotts, the railings padlocked at the door and he knew there were numerous wards to prevent intrusion. He wondered if his cup was still beneath his feet, still buried deep in one of the vaults. 

“Barty.”

It was only when he noted the wizard walking straight toward them that he became aware he was addressing Bellatrix. The older man was casting a suspicious sideways look at the Dark Lord under his cloak. Realising this, he continued walking on, as if he had simply been keep pace with Barty, not actually with him. 

“How have you been? It has been a while since I have seen your father, he seems to be doing pretty well for himself with all this election stuff going on, looks like you will be the son of the next Minister for Magic.” The older, slightly balding man clapped a hand on Bella’s shoulder amicably. 

Appearing confounded, her mouth open and closed a few times as her eyes followed him disappearing down the alley. He could tell she was panicking, unsure if she should be following after him or engaging the stranger before her. He forced into her mind, his voice projecting through the anxiety, _play your part well._

She shuddered with the message but did as he bid. Turned back to the older man and gave a modest smile. 

“I am very proud of my father’s achievements, he has had much good fortune at this difficult time.” 

It wasn’t a particularly outstanding performance but given Barty’s strained relationship with his father it was more than believable. She lacked the nervous energy the boy always seemed to exude. The Dark Lord waited in the mouth of a dead alleyway, watching from a distance. 

“And what of you, young Barty, I hope you have been keeping out of trouble.”

“As always, of course.” He cleared his throat awkwardly under the scrutinising gaze of the stranger. “I hope you have been keeping well.”

There was a peculiar look given, something about the exchange was causing the man further suspicion. He knew Bellatrix was starting to become more anxious, it seemed keeping her isolated had wrecked any social graces she may have had. 

He discretely pulled his wand out, even from this distance there was little difficulty. “ _Confundo_.”

The man opposite her froze for a split second, his eyes out of focus before they narrowed at the face of Barty. Bellatrix seemed to understand what had been done.

"Well I must be off, it was good to see you again." 

She left him standing very confused as he tried to orientate himself. Voldemort stepped out from where he was hiding to join her, she watched him warily for any sign of displeasure but he almost thought she seemed relieved he had returned to her side. Fortunately for her he was much too concerned about other issues to worry about her lack of dramatic skills. 

They moved together in silence through the sparse crowd as fine grey drizzle began to fall. Taking a left and wandering through the small dim labyrinth, they returned to their inn.

He stopped at the threshold and commanded. "Request some food, to be brought up to the room within the half hour." 

She nodded quietly in understanding and they cross into the inn, the dry warmth hitting them immediately. He walked ahead of her up towards their room as she followed his order. As she turned to leave a wizened elf called. 

"Mr Crouch. Excuse me but a letter has been left for you." 

Bellatrix took the letter, he could see it was sealed with wax and judging from her expression she recognised it. She murmured a thank you and followed after him to their room.

As soon as the door was closed he threw off his damp cloak and snatched the letter from her hand. She didn't blink at his abruptness and merely took off her own cloak, taking care to dry them both and hang them.

Immediately he knew whom the sender was, the wax seal dried into the insignia of the House of Malfoy. He tore the thick envelope open to read the short note left inside.

 

_My Lord,_

_I thought it prudent to inform you that our manor was raided early this morning. The aurors found nothing of interest. When questioned they told us reluctantly that we were subject to investigation due to my wife’s connection to Bellatrix who was recently seen in your company and that the aurors wish to talk to her in relation to the recent deaths of James Potter and Elphias Doge. I was very explicit in reminding them that she was disowned by my wife's family and was indignant at the suggestion that we could be harbouring a Dark fugitive. I doubt that they will return but I believed it best to warn you we are being monitored closely at present. I asked my elf to leave this with the elf at your inn to prevent interception and the message will only be visible to you,_

 

_Your faithful servant,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

 

Even the way he wrote his name, with extravagant swirls and loops, was pompous. With a burst of flames the letter was curled up into ashes.

It was inevitable that Malfoy would eventually be raided, although it was fortunate that nothing incriminating was found and it gave them free reign now that suspicion had been cast off them. He was surprised that the Order had released to the Ministry that Bellatrix was present at his manor. He couldn't fathom Dumbledore’s end game. 

He would have to take great care if he were to return to Malfoy manor, it was vital that Lucius remained unblemished. 

A quick knock at the door made him frown until he realised it would be the food. Voldemort moved to the other side of the room so he would be obscured behind the open door and nodded to Bella to open it. She still had the appearance of Barty which would likely only last another twenty minutes, or so he hoped. She carried the two plates of pasta and placed them on the desk. 

“Eat.” 

He let her sit at the desk and he summoned his plate over to himself and lay back on the bed. He could see she was only picking at her food, perhaps witnessing death again had tamed her appetite. He said nothing, when the hunger settled in later, she would regret her decision. 

Barely eating much of his own, he watched her as her fork idly played with the food before her. She was distractedly staring out of the small window that looked over the muggle street. The enchantments on the building meant they wouldn’t be able to see into their room, lest they spotted a guest performing magic but he still didn’t feel completely comfortable. 

Voldemort had no idea how much Bellatrix knew about muggles, she would of course have been raised to hate and fear them but since her banishment, he had no idea if she had been amongst them. He vaguely remembered her wearing muggle clothes once but that meant very little in this modern day and age where fashions mixed amongst the youths of Hogwart’s. 

Silently he set down the plate and moved to stand behind Bella. So absorbed in her musings she didn’t hear him approach. He watched them too for a moment, the silly little muggles. 

It was grey and still drizzling outside, everyone seemed to move quickly, ignoring each other as they sought to get to their destination. Poor things thought they were were advanced, the noisy polluting machinery that thundered up and down the streets a testament to their civilisation. They were ignorant to their own weakness… their defencelessness. They had nothing but they believed they ran the world, that they could do anything. 

“Rather pathetic aren’t they?”

Surprised that he was so close, she looked up over her shoulder at him before distractedly turning her attention to those outside. She didn’t respond. 

Tentatively he ran his hand through her long lustrous black hair. She seemed to shiver in reaction but didn’t pull away. It wasn’t really an affectionate action, more a distraction technique, like petting an animal curled up close to you.

“We will be leaving tomorrow morning. Heading towards Devon. First there is something we need to do.” He pushed the practically full plate away from her. “Get up, put your cloak on and make sure you have your wand.”

She did as commanded but he knew she was worried about their outing, she clearly had an aversion to bloodshed. 

Summoning his own heavy cloak, he threw it on and grasped her hand, apparating away. 

They appeared in the middle of an open field, surrounded on all sides by thick forest. The sky was still dark and brooding, fine rain fell around them. Despite this, he pulled back his hood.

Casting wards around them to ensure they were undisturbed and unwitnessed, he finally turned back to Bellatrix, his wand raised and pointed at her. 

“Take out your wand.”

Her eyes widened in alarm and she fumbled nervously to get her wand out of her sleeve. Perhaps she thought he was going to kill her. It was so unlike the fighting spirit he had seen back at his manor. Her power, her instinctive reflexes belied this timid, anxious thing he saw before him. She had given him glimpses of what she could have been with better instruction, not just the rather basic Hogwart’s education and whatever her family had chosen to share with her. 

Now that his enemies were trying to strike out directly at him, and by extension her, he needed her duelling skills to be much sharper. 

“Stand up straight, we are going to duel.”

She looked astounded at his declaration. “W-what?”

“We are going to duel. You displayed mediocre abilities yesterday. The occasion may call for you to be involved in the fight again, I want to ensure you definitely survive next time. This means some training.” He wiped the rainfall from his forehead, casting a charm to keep himself dry. He would allow Bella to figure out her own way of staying dry.

“We don’t have very much time so we will just have to cover the basics. First I want to see what you can do.”

“But I don’t want to duel.” It was stated with meekness, he already knew this and would not accept it. 

“What you want, means nothing to me. Now we will start.”

He took his duelling position and watched in amusement as Bellatrix rushed to find her stance. He gave a short bow, his opponent mirroring him and they stood still in the tension. He gave her a few seconds to see if she would dare attack first. 

She remained taut and still, her sharp eyes following him, anticipating his first move. It was a good sign, at least she had some patience. 

He sent four simple curses toward her in quick succession, satisfactory shields was raised and the spells ricocheted away. 

“Good.”

His opponent didn’t respond at all, her grip on her wand tight. He had been worried she may not take practice seriously but now he was starting to think she really believed this could be a fight to the death. 

Time to put her through her paces. 

With a flick of his wand he sent numerous hexes, watched as she raised shields and tried to dodge them. She seemed reluctant to return fire. 

This continued for a short while before he paused. It gave her a chance to regain her breath. 

“Defence isn't the best tactic, not if your enemy is determined. You need to attack. I have seen you do it, you know how to fight. Now do it or this fight will last all night, I fear you will struggle with your defensive magic if I have to resort to the killing curse.”

Voldemort knew that got to her. She would not be able to raise a protective shield against that. She straightened up again, a determined gleam in her eyes. 

He raised his wand again, before he could send another hex, a spell crackled past his ear. He hadn't had a chance to raise his own shield, he was so caught off guard. 

Surprised, he noticed the beginnings of a smirk on her face. 

The aim was not the greatest but could be improved. He volleyed back, the drab grey air becoming alive with colourful, dangerous spells. 

The ground was slick and slippy beneath him and he could see she was struggling to hold her footing. The ground around her had become singed and blackened from errant spells. She was being pushed back from the force of his spells but returned his fire just as readily. 

The sky above them grew heavy as the darkness started to settle in. Her stamina was more than he expected but even he could see the symptoms of her malnutrition in the way she fought. 

“Faster, your tiredness will kill you.” 

He had begun to fire more lethal spells as the ground around them split open, the rain fell heavily extinguishing the flames that they launched across the field toward each other. She had been pushed back to the edge of the forest, the trees behind her becoming scored and sliced. 

She held out well against his onslaught, caked in mud and blood but largely unharmed. In fact, the ferocity behind her spells seemed to increase exponentially under his barrage of magic and as her exhaustion wore her down. 

The rain was pelting down on them now, so heavy that visibly was decreased and the ground below him was treacherous. He only just caught her screaming her spell _locoterrae_ , carried to him by the wind as her wand scorched through the air. The ground below him trembled, before it exploded upwards towards him. Rapidly he ended the powerful spell as the ground seemed to ripple around them. So absorbed in his task, it was a shock when her slicing curse struck him across the face. 

That she had managed to hit him at all seemed to stun her too and she froze for a split second, half obscured in the falling rain. 

The pain that came from the laceration, the blood that he could feel welling up ready to fall set his nerves on fire and he retaliated to her violent magic with his own. 

A bolt of pure electric energy burst forth from his wand, very little could be done to defend against it. He could feel when it had struck Bellatrix and released it after only a second. It was too powerful for sustained attack. 

As the rain cleared the smoke and steam, he could see that she had been thrown back against a tree, flames licked at the ends of her dress. 

A cold sensation overcame him, he should not have used such a spell in a training exercise. Voldemort moved toward her, he could see the trees around her had splintered under the magic. 

He slipped on the muddy ground as a cold icy spike seemed to split his chest in half. It was painful but the panic and fear that rose up with it was far more disturbing. He felt empty, it was the first time the rendering of his soul actually left him with the feeling of having lost something. 

A horcrux had been destroyed. 

The pain was not nearly as disorientating as it had been previously and that was a source of more concern. He didn’t even know which one was gone.

Forcing himself to stand, he moved to Bellatrix. They needed to go immediately. 

She was splayed out, half sat against the splintered tree stump. The heavy rain had at least washed away some of the muck and blood and extinguished the flames around her.

He crouched beside her, his chest aching as he did so.

“Bella.”

Her eyes fluttered open as she groaned lowly. The tightness loosened somewhat as he realised she was alive, such energy could stop a heart dead. 

“Come, we need to leave.”

Though dazed, she understood. He nearly flinched away from her as her hand reached up to his cheek, to the blood there.

“I’m sorry master, I don’t know what overcame me.”

He slapped her hand away impatiently. “It was a duel. Injuries are to be expected. Get up.”

Dragging her up, his hand tightly wrapped in the back of her dress to prevent her falling, like a marionette holding a puppet, he surveyed the damage. The field looked like war zone, he collapsed the temporary wards around them and apparated away letting nature heal itself. 

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

 

With the key they were able to apparate straight back into their room. Mud and water splattered everywhere and he let her lean against the desk to keep herself upright. Voldemort dumped his filthy cloak in the bathroom and turned on the taps in the small bathtub. Glancing at his reflection in the small mirror, he could see the long cut across his cheek. The blood had already dried and a simple healing spell got rid of it. He splashed some water on his face to clean the specks of dirt before returning to the bedroom. 

 

Bellatrix was trembling as she barely managed to hold herself up on the desk. 

 

“Get into the bath, the water will clean and soothe you.”

 

She barely acknowledged what he was saying, instead stumbled into the bathroom. He grabbed the bag of supplies they had, reaching for the potions he was hoping were there. Finding something suitable he joined her, realising she was already starting to undress. 

 

One of her sleeves had been pulled down and he could see strange scarring across her shoulder. Red markings, like the veins of leaves, spread out down the skin of her left shoulder. She didn't flinch as he raised a hand to feel it, what ever it was didn’t seem to cause any pain. 

 

“This will alleviate the aching and should cleanse away the residual magic.” He poured the light blue potion into bath, the water diluting the colour. 

 

She was watching him now, and had stopped removing her clothes. 

 

“I’m sorry, it has been a long time since I have done any duelling practice.”

 

“Shh.” He turned her around to undo the ties at her back, her wand forgotten on the side of the sink. His fingers traced along her back where the scar seemed to have spread. She shivered lightly at the touch. “For a first attempt you did well. You displayed an interesting repertoire of spells but your athleticism was not up to scratch. You spent far too much time with defensive magic, which was adequate but you need to be faster, you need to follow up the powerful spells and should be wary of becoming too fatigued.”

 

She nodded at his words but still seemed disappointed with herself. She likely would have been a joy to teach, always seeking to better herself, disappointed if she didn’t make enough progress. He stepped back from her and waved towards the bath. 

 

“Get in, we will talk after. Don't take long, we will need to move tonight.”

 

When it became clear she wasn’t going to undress any further under his gaze, he stepped out and closed the door. 

 

It was imperative they get moving as soon as possible, it was impossible to predict how long it could take to find Flamel. He was already running out of time. He pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag and grabbed a quill. It didn’t take him long to make a small list regarding his horcruxes. He now only had one safe and another that had not been destroyed. It was impossible to know if it was the cup or diary. Perhaps he needed to reconsider breaking into Gringott’s but without knowing the cup was safe, the risk may prove futile. 

 

A strange scratching sound broke him from his musings. It sounded as if it were from outside the room. Not bothering disguising himself, he could kill any unwanted visitors now that they were not planning on staying, he flung the door open, recoiling back at the large rat on the ground. It scampered into the room and reluctantly he closed the door. As soon as it shut, Peter Pettigrew appeared in the middle of the room. 

 

“My Lord.”

He bowed his head respectfully but it did little to abate Voldemort’s anger. 

“What do you want? You had better have a good reason for interrupting me.”

The other man’s face twitched in fear but he held his nerve. “Forgive me please. I have come with news.”

With a coldness the other man wasn’t expecting, he responding. “Yes I had assumed so. Speak up, or I will make you scream instead.”

“I-It’s about Barty. The ministry have brought him in for questioning.”

“What?” 

“He was brought in earlier this afternoon. Apparently a minister worker believed he was acting strangely. The man had been confounded but it was found to be true. He reported him now as part of the imperious curse propaganda. It is unknown how long they will keep him.”

The Dark Lord growled in anger to himself. This was clearly due to the man they had met earlier, Bellatrix’s dismal performance had raised suspicion. The ministry had started a recent campaign to encourage people to report if a friend or family member was acting unusual as it may be the consequence of the imperious curse. The curse was wreaking havoc in government and they would do anything to keep a handle on it. 

Barty was not under a curse, he was clever enough so as long as he could deflect concerns, it shouldn't need to go any further. As long as his loyalty didn't cause him to say anything out of turn. It needed to go away quickly to avoid impacting his fathers election. 

“Anything else?” The tension with which he spoke caused Peter to give a squeak as he hurried to speak. 

“My Lord. It is Severus. He has approached me, offering to help you. He requested that I pass on a message, that he remains loyal to you. He has information that could assist you, unfortunately he wouldn’t tell me what this was.”

At that moment there was a splash from inside the bathroom. Peter looked curiously toward the door and it swung open. Bellatrix was wrapped in a white towel, looking much more relaxed than he had seen her for a while. Her hair was down, mostly dry except for the ends. She looked radiant and he was enraged that Peter was present, gawking at her with a mix of curiosity and lust. 

She froze when she saw the other man. 

“Get some clothes from the bag.” It was left at the side of the bed and she made her way around them to reach it. Without waiting he lashed out at Pettigrew as his lecherous gaze followed her path. 

“ _Crucio.”_

There was a horrific screech, quickly stifled by a silencing spell. 

“You mean to tell me that Snape approached you? He knows you are a spy then?”

Peter was unable to answer as he contorted again under the effect of the curse. 

“Not very useful are you, if they already know you are a spy? How can I rely on any of the information you provide?” He knew the fat little man was begging for mercy. 

Finally he stopped the curse. 

“Does Snape know you are an animagus?”

Taking a second to catch his breath, the man choked out. “No my Lord.”

“Good, it seems you still have some small value then. I want you to follow him, back to Hogwart’s if you have to. Find out everything you can. Do not get caught.”

Pettigrew nodded in understanding as he tried to pull himself up. 

“You are dismissed.” He waved his wand toward the door in dismissal, speaking up before his servant opened the door. “Oh and Wormtail, don’t even consider betraying _me_. I will do a lot worse to you then they will, the last five minutes will seem like a joy in comparison. There is nowhere you can hide where I can’t root you out. Understand?”

“Yes my Lord.”

Pettrigrew, clearly anxious to be out of his company, changed back into the large rat, squeezing himself under the door frame. 

He turned back to Bellatrix, ashen faced and still in her towel, clutching her dress toward her. 

“You ought to just be thankful that wasn’t you at the end of my wand, your dreadful performance today has got one of my loyal followers in trouble and jeopardised my plans.” 

She seemed uncertain whether she should apologise or not and held onto her towel tighter, feeling too vulnerable. All that seemed to do was highlight the soft curves of her body. 

“Get some clothes on you stupid woman. Get everything gathered up, after I clean up we are leaving.” 

He went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and letting her get on with things. 

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

“Come Bella.”

Voldemort waved her into the old stone house. It had been a bed and breakfast, run by an elderly couple with previously three guests. It was now empty. 

He had apparated them to the secluded house, it was perfectly situated on the coast of Devon, overlooking the sea and very private. It was old stone, one side completely coated in ivy, rather quaint. Asking Bellatrix to wait outside on arrival, he had quickly despatched of the friendly owners.

She followed him now. A small fire was burning in the reception room, it was filled with traditional furniture and quite comfy. 

He turned to Bella who stood uncomfortably by the door with their bag over her shoulder. “Go upstairs, choose a room to stay in.”

Looking surprised by his offer, she vanished up the stairs, she wasn’t going to give him time to change his mind. He headed towards the kitchen, it had been a very long day and they had had little sustenance. In the fridge was plentiful food, including two plates of dinner that needed to be reheated. It was fortunate for them the owners had been so prepared; he placed them in the microwave and left it to cook. 

Climbing the stairs to see which room Bella had chosen, he eventually found her in the farthest room. He could tell it would offer the greatest view of the sea outside. The room was tastefully decorated, a large double bed with heavy navy bedsheets and a old armoire in the corner. Voldemort barely registered this as he was much too focused on working out what Bellatrix was occupied doing. 

She was bent down on her knees, looking at something on the wall. He moved further into the room to get a better view and heard a switch flick. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Alarmed at his warning she stopped poking around at the plug socket to look up at him curiously. 

“I don’t understand what it does. Pressing the button doesn’t do anything.”

It was difficult not to express his wry amusement at her ignorance. “It is an electric socket. You have to plug things in and it allows them to be powered through electricity.”  He stepped over to the lamp on the desk and showed her the lead with the heavy plug on the end. 

“The socket has wires connected to electricity, try to avoid sticking your fingers in there unless you want to be electrocuted.”

Warily she looked back at the seemingly innocent wall attachment. 

“There is food heating, we should eat something before we retire.”

He went back downstairs without waiting for her but as usual she followed obediently. As he reached the kitchen, the microwave pinged and with a tea-towel he pulled the steaming plate out and set it on the table. 

“You can have that one.”

With some confusion she went to the drawer and pulled out some cutlery, watching as he placed his own food on to heat. 

“What is that, master?”

“It’s a microwave, used for heating and cooking food. Another muggle invention.” 

Her curiosity brought her closer, seeing him so close to it, she must have decided it couldn’t be dangerous. 

“But how does it work, there is nothing in there to heat it, no fire. Unless… well they haven't stolen magic for it?”

It would have been easy to lie to her, to convince her that muggles were a danger to her magic but some part of him wanted to teach her these things. After all, she would need to know how to use much of the equipment for the next few days. 

“No. It’s just a microwave, it uses radiation to heat things up. It’s put on a timer.

She nodded as she slowly sat down before her food, making no room to eat. He could guess her unasked question.

“As I am sure you must know, magic interferes with muggle electronics. A small amount would be alright but living in a muggle house unfortunately we will need to use their things. The lights, the heating, everything would be effected so it is best to avoid using magic if possible around this stuff, as loathe as I am to touch this muggle junk.”

He smirked when she jumped at the ping from the microwave, he hadn’t bothered to warn her about that. He joined her at the table, a large stained oak thing.

It didn’t take him long to polish off his food, he noted again with irritation that she barely touched her food. When he was done, he let her wash up and went off to read the various tourist brochures left in the reception room. It seemed most of the local shows were amateur performances. 

There was a show tomorrow by the coast that didn’t entirely look promising and a national premier a couple of days after. That was likely his best chance, the rest of the calendar was largely empty for a number of months. 

He heard Bellatrix going up the stairs and decided he should retire too. He passed her room on the way and noticed she was staring into the wardrobe. There were muggle clothes already hung up and he realised why she was staring uncomfortably at them.

She didn’t hear him enter the room until he was standing behind her, he slowly closed the door, hiding the contents from their view. 

Instead of saying anything, she just turned away from him, picking up their bag and rifling through it as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Get what you need out now, I’ll take the bag.”

“Yes master.” 

Her voice was monotonous as she answered. The few clothes she owned were placed on the bed and she handed the bag over to him. 

He watched her for another moment, she didn’t acknowledge him as she picked at the clothes laid out distractedly, absorbed as she was in her thoughts. 

“They were only muggles, you shouldn’t spend too much time thinking about them.”

She hummed for a moment before she realised he would likely want an actual response. “Yes, master.”

Voldemort moved around to her side of the bed, grabbing her hand that wasn’t fiddling with the clothes. She tensed immediately in his grasp, just about resisting pulling away, understanding that her obvious morose and the response she had given had annoyed him.  Her hand felt rather delicate in his own larger one, as if he was holding onto a small bird, whose hollow bones could be crushed in a single moment. 

“They are nothing like us. They do not deserve your sympathy or sadness. They are your inferiors and they know it, they would have tried to hurt you if they knew what you really were. They would fear what you are.” As he spoke spitefully, his grip on her hand tightened until she cried out in pain. 

He released it after a moment, not wanting to cause any real injury and she clutched it to her chest protectively with her other hand. Sweeping her locks of hair over her shoulder, he took a moment to trace along the exposed skin along her neck to her shoulder where the strange patterned scarring remained from his curse. 

“I am only telling you these things for your own good. You cannot trust muggles, I have spent enough time around them to understand that. They will hurt you.”

The look she gave him made his chest tighten for the briefest moment. He could see it, that she wanted to believe him, she wanted to be able to trust him but confusion and suspicion remained. He knew she must have heard the same things from her family, all pureblood families taught their children this, he doubted it would be any different for her simply because her blood had been sullied. The reason she had difficulty reconciling this was simply because it was him telling her. He had caused her to question everything she knew, her own identity, even her reality at times. 

The Dark Lord had manipulated it all. He wanted her to believe him, he wanted her to trust him and he needed to control her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Voldemort stared at the waxy, off coloured flesh of his newly made puppets before him. It had taken him all day, the shed at the end of the long sloping garden by the sea the best place to conduct his dark magic. He had finally finished the fifth and last dead body.

He watched them as they stared off, no focus to their cloudy eyes. Nothing at all left of them, the most horrifying epitome of decay.

With a wave of his wand, their faces bowed and eyes closed like some mockery of sleep. The fatigue seeped down to his bones but this task was too important to be delayed by something so human. 

It had been frustrating, not knowing. He had travelled all this way on the basis of a rumour. Not that he had any better option, he was now technically homeless after the Order’s attack and it was probably better to stay somewhere private than to guest constantly at his followers homes which were repeatedly subject to raids.

This gave him purpose. He was determined that he would make every hour count whilst he was waiting for the show to start.

“Master, I-”

He whipped around when he realised Bellatrix had walked in. She froze when she saw the five inferi standing in front of him. It took her a moment to understand what she was looking at. 

“What…?”

She gasped and stumbled out of the shed looking shellshocked. 

Groaning to himself, he followed after her, magically locking the shed behind him. 

“Bellatrix.”

She scrambled to get away from him. He couldn’t hide the exasperation in his voice. 

“Stop it. Bella.”

She finally stopped. “That is _monstrous_. That’s what you have been doing all day? It wasn’t enough for you to kill them… you- you had to do that to them? Are they allowed no peace?”

The impassioned outburst had her out of breath as she looked at him with what could only be described as abject horror. It was as if she had become conditioned to the cruel things he did, for some reason this seemed to go beyond that. It had been such a long time since he had seen such a reaction from her. 

“I think you have forgotten who you are talking to.”

She stared at him, stubbornness making her hold his gaze for a few seconds before finally lowering it. 

“Every morning you wake up, every single breath you take, is only on my mercy. You had better not forget that. What I do to them, is nothing compared to what I could do to you, you are still alive to understand it.”

It mollified him to see her submission. He had known for a while she was becoming too comfortable with him.

“Now why did you come to disturb me in the first place?”

She didn’t raise her face at all as she answered him, it seemed she was sulking. “One of your Death Eaters sent a message by floo to you, he said you had arranged to talk at this time, master.”

He wanted to roll his eyes at her in irritation, he just wanted her to remember her place. To show him the respect he deserved. No need for her to shrink completely into herself. 

“Go back into the house, Bella.”

She nodded obediently and escaped his presence. Voldemort paused for another moment, listening to the waves crashing against the waves of the shallow cliff at the end of the garden. The cool salty sea breeze ruffled through his cloak, it was invigorating and he followed after her. 

The house felt warm in comparison. Bellatrix had already disappeared somewhere else in the house so he headed directly up the stairs to his room. He had set up a temporary floo connection to reach his various followers, in the short term it was likely safer than owls. This fireplace was the only other in the house except for that in the reception room. 

With a dash of floo powder he stuck his head in. 

“Yaxley, you have news?”

The tall, slick man was sat opposite the fireplace, waiting on his Lord. “Yes, excellent news. Your plan worked, Fredrick Stumps was detained today. Wilkes is now in charge of the Prophet. With the number of followers you have planted in the company, we now essentially own the media.”

It was a satisfying feeling when a plan came to fruition as intended. “You know what the next step is?”

The man smirked, a disturbing sight for someone so sleazy looking. “Obviously we will stop printing all that rubbish about the _disappeared_.”

“Yes. I want more anti-establishment stuff, a few things about the ineffectiveness of the aurors, how their tactics are now harming more innocents than criminals, how their use of the unforgivable is causing casualties. Spin the election further into Crouch’s favour. It will be difficult but we need to highlight the failings of Hogwart’s, make it clear the school is accountable to the ministry. This needs to be subtle. People are stupid but we need to show restraint until we control the government.”

Yaxley nodded, a blank expression on his face. Despite his apparent nonchalance to the instructions, he knew the man was clever and shrewd.

“Manage this well and I will give you a very prominent position in the ministry.”

“I will, my Lord.”

Voldemort pulled his head back. This was just the advance he needed, it reassured him that his machinations were a success. He couldn’t allow himself to lose focus on the war whilst he was off searching.

He heard the sound of cutlery and pots banging and he knew Bellatrix must be preparing dinner. It would not be too long before they would have to head off to the first show. 

The Dark Lord went into her room, he noted the sun was beginning to set over the sea outside as it seemed to bleed fiery orange, she certainly had chosen the best view. He opened up the wardrobe, as he had suspected, she hadn’t replaced the clothes inside with her own. They were muggle clothes, clearly the young couple had been staying in this room. 

He pulled out a simple black dress, it had a high straight neck line and would likely end just above the knee. It was smart and would have to do for this evening.

Carrying it downstairs, he draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs. 

“You will wear this.”

She looked up, as she was serving up onto two plates, in confusion. 

“Tonight, we will be going to a show. You need to fit in with the muggles.”

It was obvious she was uneasy, especially given his sharp words and the scene she had witnessed earlier. 

Their dinner was a quiet affair. They were both distracted by their separate thoughts and he eventually commanded her to clean up and get dressed upstairs. He knew her thoughts continued to drift to the reanimated corpses in the shed at the end of the garden. 

He put on a suit he found in his own wardrobe, likely it belong to the older owner, it was outdated and not the best fit. He wasn’t concerned with this. 

When he was done, he found Bellatrix sat on the edge of the bed. She had put on the simple dress and wore a warm jumper over the top with a smart pair of heels.

“Come here.”

“I can take it off, I was only wearing to keep warm in here, master.”

It didn’t look too bad with the dress and he knew the event was more smart-casual than anything else. “I don’t care about that, you can keep it on. Come stand before me.”

She did as he ordered, clearly apprehensive with standing before him, particularly when he pulled out his wand. She was still expecting a backlash from her discovery earlier. 

Murmuring spells under his breath, the features of her face began to morph. Her pale skin became sun kissed as her hair became dirty blonde. Freckles scattered across her skin and he changed her eye colour to a light hazel. 

By the time he finished, she was unrecognisable. The glamours wouldn’t last long but it would give them ample time for the show. She ran her hands through her straightened hair, examining the ends of it in her hands. 

Turning the wand on himself, he rather reluctantly did the same. His face was not one readily recognised in the wizarding world yet but it was probably still worthwhile. His own hair became much shorter and reddened, his eyebrows following suit. He didn't bother to change anything else.

“Let’s go.”

He grasped her wrist and apparated away. 

It was fortunate he had allowed her to keep her jumper. The theatre was open air, the seats were carved into the granite cliff so they could see the sea behind the performance. They had apparated in a field over from it and wandered over to the growing crowd. 

It was pretty busy considering it wasn’t the height of the season and the weather was pretty changeable.  He kept a close  eye on the audience at all times. 

It was a showing of _Parsifal,_ he didn’t know anything of the story. Thought they were enthusiastic, it was abundantly clear they were an amateur group. He couldn’t pay any attention to the what was happening as he kept watching everyone, probing a few minds every so often.  He already knew it was fruitless. Flamel wasn’t there. 

There was no evidence to support this but his instinct was strong and generally reliable. Bellatrix was shaking beside him because of the cold and he realised why there likely wasn’t many showings at this time of year. He was sure that Flamel would be after something more highbrow, after six hundred years, his tastes were probably very discerning. 

By the time the interval came he was bored out of his mind, a sense of agitation had him itching to move. He glanced over, it felt alien to him, having this stranger sitting next to him. 

“Get up, we are going.”

Bellatrix didn’t question this, he could guess she was eager as he was to leave to return to some warmth.

The house was quiet when they returned and he was in a foul mood. Even though he hardly expected success immediately, after all the man had been hidden for centuries, there was a feeling of taking his eye off the ball. 

Bella had moved toward the still burning fireplace, holding her hands out to try and warm them up again. He followed her, hovering over her shoulder, his hand tugging on the blonde ends of her hair. 

He knew he had become distracted recently, more and more he had been aware that he needed to fix this. Every time he thought of the solution and he did know what the easy solution would be, he pushed it to the back of his mind, unwilling to go through with it. 

Feeling the ends of the soft hair between his fingertips, he wondered if he just needed a substitute. Spending so much time with just one other person could distort things. Perhaps he just needed to spend time with someone else, work off  his frustration without complicating things. 

Having warmed up, Bella withdrew her hands from the fire and looked over her shoulder at him. It was disorientating, he knew it was still her but someone else's face was looking at him. She was still very pretty, some men he was sure would prefer her appearance this way but it wasn’t the same. 

He held his wand up, the tip just below her chin. Understanding what he was doing, for once she didn’t flinch at the wand directed at her. 

Her features melted away, returning to those that were so familiar to him. The dirty blonde disappeared as her ebony locks transformed before him. Those sharp eyes watched him take in all her features. 

“What’s wrong, master?”

It was a half whisper, as of she thought if she spoke too loud, the peace would shatter. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled himself back in control. There was just too much going on to lose his way. 

“Get ready for bed Bellatrix.” 

He stepped back from her, giving her space to head toward the stairs. Watched as she climbed them, vanishing from his view. 

She was becoming more dangerous to him and he isn’t sure how long he could ignore it. 

 

* * *

 

 

The Dark Lord watched the witches and wizards rushing around the labyrinth of alleyways. It was the day of the election, there was an air of excitement about the people around him. As if there actually was a potential for great change. He had seen them lining up to get to the polls, the heavily armoured aurors standing guard. 

They didn’t realise he wouldn’t send an attack. They didn’t realise he was manipulating them all into voting for his own choice. They had turned away from a hardliner, someone who may have been able to rally against him. Instead they chose his uncharismatic underdog, he was ambitious and ruthless but would never have got to power without him. 

Voldemort had been making every hour count as they waited for the show to start. He had spent the last two days moving the inferi from the cave. With no horcrux there, they had nothing to defend. All that time and energy, the pure dark magic that had gone into creating them would not go to waste. He moved them to several strategic positions, near prime settlements where they would not be discovered before he could command them. 

Tonight the Royal Opera house was hosting _Tosca_. It was a premier showing and the most promising thing for the next couple of months. If there was nothing tonight he would have to reconsider the best use of his time. 

With a malicious smirk he pulled a poster off the stone wall. They were everywhere, along with a number of others. _Person of Interest._ That’s what they called her. Underneath was a moving picture of Bellatrix, he wasn’t sure where they had got it, he didn’t remember seeing it at her flat.

She stared out, a rather enigmatic expression on her face. She barely moved, unlike the occupants of other posters, most of them sneering or scowling out at anyone who looked at them. 

He stuffed it into his pocket before disapparating, reappearing in the small reception room, a fire burning in the modest fireplace. Despite the  traditional furnishings, there were enough gadgets to make it abundantly clear it was a muggle residence. It was neat and tidy, he knew Bella had been spending her time cleaning everything.

He supposed she had very little else to occupy herself with, trapped as she was. He had given enough leeway to allow her out in the garden but would not extend the wards to the edge of the small raised coast that melted into the tumultuous sea. 

The ennui seemed to be affecting Bellatrix. She had become unwell, he knew she was eating very little and always seemed so preoccupied. He hardly bothered to look into her mind these days, he struggled to find sense in the bizarre, disjointed thoughts. They were not of any consequence.

The Dark Lord strode through the house until he found her, looking through an old photo album in one of the empty bedrooms. Over her shoulder he could see smiling faces of an old couple, he recognised that they had been the owners. Like all muggle photographs, the occupants were unmoving. 

“We are going out again tonight.”

She turned to him, surprised at his return. “Shall I get dressed again?”

Snapping at her he responded. “Yes, of course.” It had become a strange routine for her. “This will be a fancier event than the others. Calls for a more sophisticated outfit than those muggles dresses. Come.”

She jumped up and trailed after him immediately as he led her to his own room. He flicked the light on and headed to the armoire in the corner, opening it up. Inside each door were two outfit bags. 

Creating and moving inferi was not the only thing keeping him busy, he had stopped at an old wizarding garment establishment in Edinburgh that morning. The young saleswoman had hardly raised an eyebrow when he had simply asked for the smartest dress and suit, something suitable for muggle events. He wasn’t one for shopping, particularly not for women. Now was his chance to see how good the young woman’s taste had been. It was imperative that they blend in. 

“Take this and go get ready, you need to look like you belong. We do not want to draw attention to ourselves.” She went to leave but paused when he continued. “You have already had more than enough attention.”

He held the poster out to her. With trepidation and confusion she approached until she was close enough to see her picture. 

“What?” With a gasp she snatched it from his hand, reading it greedily for information. He could pinpoint the exact moment her spirit was crushed as she realised what the poster meant. It confirmed everything he had been telling her. 

“I told you the Order was after you, and the ministry too now. You better hope we take over the ministry sooner rather than later.”

He pulled the poster from her loose grasp, her devastation was obvious, and threw it into the fire. “Now go, push it from your mind. You need to change.”

Numbly she took the outfit away, returning to her own room and he moved to fireplace.  The poster had already curled up in the flames and turned to ash.

With a flash of powder he stuck his head into the flames and saw Yaxley waiting there for him.

“My Lord.”

“Well?”

He cleared his throat and rocked on his feet for a moment. “The ministry had to release Barty Jr today, we were very lucky. The current laws only allowed them to hold him until today before they had to make a formal arrest, they couldn’t do that without any solid evidence.”

“Excellent.” He truly was relieved. Barty was extremely loyal and he couldn’t deny that he was apprehensive that this loyalty would cause him to admit his allegiance to their enemies. At least the boy had some sense. 

“Yes, Wilkes has printed a great article about reuniting father and son today, it has provided a last minute boost for the election.”

“Have you talked to Barty?”

“Not personally. I received an owl a few hours ago from him. He wanted me to pass on a message that as part of Crouch’s new measures against you, if he wins he wants to repeal law that states everyone should face a trial before judgement. It would make justice more efficient or something.”

He almost wanted to laugh at the hypocrisy. “This is perfect for us. We can force his hand into implementing this very undemocratic agenda and when we take over, it will already be enshrined in law. We will not have sully our hands with bending the constitution.”

Yaxley seemed mildly impressed with this concept. 

“The results of the election will be released tonight, in two days we will launch a strike. It will be a devastating blow to his new leadership and force him to enact these measures.”

“It cannot fail, my Lord.”

With a sharp tone he responded. “No, it cannot.”

He withdrew from the fireplace pleased that plans seemed to be going in his favour. In some sense it bolstered his instincts that tonight would wield some useful information. Whilst he had his horcrux, he was immortal but the elixir would protect his corporeal body for a short time, if he understood it correctly. He had no desire to have his body destroyed and if he was essentially indestructible, he could face any of his enemies. Dumbledore would be the first to be eliminated and the rest would drop like flies.

It took him little time to change. The shop assistant had done well in selecting the perfect muggle suit. It was a cleaner fit than the outdated muggle thing he had been borrowing. 

Sure he had given more than enough time for Bella to get ready he opened his door, intent on finding her. It caught him by surprise to catch her standing outside his room. 

She looked breathtaking in her dress, a vast improvement from the plain dresses she had been wearing. The beautiful, simple navy dress highlighted her figure, the dark colour contrasting with her pale skin and illuminating her eyes. She had somehow managed a small amount of makeup, he was unsure if it was the muggles or magic. The off the shoulder neckline highlighted her delicate collarbone and gave the most tantalising hint of cleavage. He knew a necklace would have finished the look but he had no jewellery. Only the diadem. 

Admittedly it would be beautiful, perched atop her shimmering hair but there was no way he was doing that. It was probably safer in her possession than his own, no one would suspect it. Despite this, he could never give it over to her. 

Looking at the clock, he saw it was nearly time. 

“We should go.”

It was only then he realised he had forgotten to get them coats. Their cloaks would look too out of place. He was fine but Bella’s dress was thin, he knew she would be cold. 

“We shall apparate straight there, around the corner from it.”

She nodded obediently and with some hesitancy she placed her bare arm on his offered one. 

With a near silent pop, they apparated in an alley around the corner from the opera house. Bellatrix tried to suppress a shiver as the cool air hit them. He thought that another man would have offered her their suit jacket. 

“Let us go, it is not far.”

He strode off, Bella racing to keep up with them in her heels and as they neared the opera house, meeting other patrons, he realised it would draw attention to act as they were. He slowed to let her catch up, walking side by side the rest of the way. 

His wand crept down into his sleeve as they reached the door, a discrete imperious curse ensured they were let in and directed to a box. He needed a prime position to view the rest of the audience. 

Against all instinct, he placed a hand in the middle of her back, leading her along the carpeted staircase to be shown to the box. The usher pulled back the heavy curtain, allowing them to take their seats. He noted the other seats were half full, the noise rising up as excited guests found their places. 

Voldemort noticed his companion’s gaze around the grand old victorian building, the opera hall was much more impressive than the last venues they had attended. He was sure being raised in a pureblood household as she was, she was used to such splendour but he supposed she wasn’t used to it being so muggle. 

He in comparison had never dreamed of attending such events as a child, they were much beyond anything he would have imagined. Few children growing up in the post-war poverty stricken London he knew, would even have know what an opera was. It was not ever something he wanted, he saw no point in status or even riches. It was only power he craved. 

Examining those around him, he realised it was going to be difficult, he had no idea what Flamel looked like. If he was even here at all. A man over six hundred years of age, he may look as young as Bella depending on the age he created it and the effects of the stone. 

As the crowd settled in their seats, murmuring in-distinctively to each other, the lights dimmed. Lively music immediately started up and the curtain rose. 

The Dark Lord had little interest, music had never had much appeal for him and he was focused on his task at hand. Voldemort watched the audience as they in turn watched the show, it was interesting to observe people when they didn’t realise there were eyes on them. He glanced at Bella beside him, she appeared enthralled with the story. He supposed it would be very easy to entertain someone who had been trapped in a house as she had been. With one eye on the audience, he watched the story on the stage enfold. It seemed a rather poignant tale although he found it difficult to become absorbed in.

After what seemed a ridiculously long time, the curtain finally fell for the interval. 

“Come, lets mingle.”

Somewhat perturbed at the idea, she allowed him to lead her back out toward the bar. Jostled in the crowd, he led her to a small table. 

“Sit. Keep an eye out for anyone that might be magical. I will be back in a few moments.”

He headed toward the bar, scanning the small gathered crowd and waited casually to be served. Cautiously, he prodded into the minds of a few people, the muggles would not noticed but he was a little worried that Flamel could feel it. 

“Can I help you sir?”

Caught by surprise he turned to the young barman. “Yes.” He hadn't actually thought about what he should order, the crowd around him were clamouring for the attention of the bar staff so he quickly responded. “A glass of red wine and a whiskey.”

He wouldn’t drink it but it would be strange to stand at a bar with no drink. As he glanced back to Bella, he saw her observing the other patrons around her. Behind her was an older couple sat at a similar table, he almost looked away when he caught a glimpse of a wand. Perfect. 

As he collected the drinks, a very discreet confundo to avoid paying, he wondered why they even had a Statue of Secrecy. Muggles were so oblivious, using magic in front of them rarely attracted any attention. Bella’s eyebrows raised when he set the wine glass in front of her. The stupid woman looked like she had no idea what to do with it. He had no idea if she actually liked wine.

“You are allowed to drink it.”

For appearance sake, he took a sip of his own drink, barely suppressing a grimace at the taste. He watched the older couple over Bella’s shoulder. They looked to be in their early seventies but in good health. They were laughing merrily between themselves. Surely it couldn’t be them, he couldn’t believe that anyone could bear to spend over six hundred years with the same person, never mind still find things to laugh about together. 

There was a call back to return for the second act. He watched as the man helped his partner up out of her seat and they made to pass them. With a split second to think on it, he knocked the wine glass off the table just as the woman brushed past. 

Bellatrix had missed his movement and gasped in genuine shock when it tumbled off the table, spilling everywhere. The couple turned back at the commotion, immediately assuming fault. 

“I am so sorry deary.” The older woman turned to their table, resting a hand on Bella shoulders and she lifted the glass off the floor. “Nick, go get them another glass.”

“Certainly.” He smiled good-humouredly and rushed off to the bar which was near empty as everyone filtered out. 

“Don’t worry about that, they can clean that up.” She tried to reassure Bella as she attempted to swab up the mess. “As long as none of it got on that beautiful dress of yours then it’s alright.”

“Yes, I am fine thank you.”

The older woman nodded approvingly. “I’m Perry, this is my husband Nick.” Her companion rejoined them, handing the glass to Bella who gratefully took it. 

“Suppose we should be heading back to our seats now.”

Perry brushed off her husband. “Yes in a moment. So how have you two been finding the show? It’s marvellous, isn’t it. My favourite opera, though I have seen it so many times, this production is just delightful. Have you seen it before?”

Appearing a little overwhelmed by the familiarity from the older woman, Bella responded quietly. “No, this is my first time.”

“Oh, you are in for a treat then. I don't want you to miss a second of it, come we should get back in.”

Nick appeared amused at his wife’s behaviour and they headed back, parting ways to return to the box.

The second half of the show passed in a daze as he watched his prey like a hawk. It had to be them. It would be too large a coincidence for them, two magical folk with the names he was looking for. 

Beautiful music filled the opera hall, he noticed a number of women in the audience, including Perry, with tears in their eyes. When he looked to Bellatrix, she was captivated by the tragic scene on the stage, her hand rested over her heart. She didn’t notice him watching her rapture. 

He understood why the opera was as popular as it was but he could hardly wait for it to be over. At last the curtain fell to a standing ovation and he forced Bellatrix to her feet.

“We need to get back to the entrance.”

He dragged her along so they could get ahead of the crowd, she could barely manage with her heels. He waited as the crowd spilled out, thinning as they rushed to get out into the street. He spotted his target taking the stairs slowly and pulled Bella along so they reached beside them. 

“Hello again.”

They smiled pleasantly at him as they recognised them. 

“Hello, so did you enjoy the opera?”

The woman automatically addressed Bella who responded sincerely. “It was beautiful. I have never heard such music and it was just so sad.”

The older woman clutched her hand, tapping it sympathetically. “All the greatest opera’s are tragedies, that is something life teaches you, to see the beauty in the tragic.”

Though he couldn't deny that it could only be helpful that Perry seemed to have developed some kind of rapport with Bellatrix, he needed to resume control of the situation. 

“We wanted to thank you for the drink, it really wasn’t necessary. We want to return the favour, if you know somewhere around here that would be perfect or you’re welcome to come back to our B and B, it’s not far.”

The older couple glanced at each other before Nick answered. “Thank you very much for the invitation but I think it’s getting late for us, we don’t have the energy that we used to. I think it will be a quiet one for us but I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With a patient nod they continued walking toward the exit. “Alright then, it was nice meeting you too.”

“And you too.”

They parted way out on the street and he watched the old couple walking down the street. He was sure they were trying to find a secluded area to apparate. 

“Let’s go.”

He lead her back to the alley they had apparated into. He stopped at the end of it and she watched him in anticipation. 

“I managed to place a trace on them. It is only temporary but we have to give them enough time to get home.”

Her eyebrows rose and he got the distinct impression she was impressed. A trace was a highly unstable and tricky piece of magic especially when done covertly. 

They stood together in the darkness, the noise from the street echoing hollowly around them. He noticed Bellatrix shivering again in the coldness so with a heavy sigh he flicked his wand and magically warmed her dress. 

“Thanks.” She murmured it under her breath in gratitude.

As they waited in silence, he found himself staring at her. Not for the first time, he regretted her wasted potential. His thoughts drifted to the idea of what could have been if she had been pureblood. He considered he would have been able to twist her around to join him, of the things she could have achieved for him. 

He could have moulded her. Turned her into the ideal warrior. With her skill and magical ability, she could have been a force to be reckoned with. She would have desired his companionship, worshipped him instead of the silent resentment that emanated from her. Such a waste. 

At least these thoughts distracted him from her dress and how low the neckline was despite revealing nothing to him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It had been long enough. 

“Come here.” He held his arm out to her and she took it. He brushed his hand over the soft skin of her wrist which was entwined with his arm, allowing himself that small indulgence before they disapparated. 

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

Voldemort appeared outside a small cottage, Bellatrix at his side. His eyes were just about able to penetrate the darkness around them, enough to see the empty fields and darkened silhouettes of large trees. The Flamel’s had chosen a very isolated place to live. Very convenient for him. 

“Follow me, keep your wand out.”

Hesitantly Bella followed his orders and he strode up to the house. There seemed to be very little in the way of wards, something he found surprising. He broke the simple wards that there were around the door, taking a second to erect his own preventing anyone from apparating away and burst through it. 

He made it into the cosy living room before a spell was thrown at him. 

Nick was standing in the threshold to the kitchen, his wand raised as he attempted another curse. 

“You?”  
  
He deflected the explosive spell which caused the couch to fracture under the force of the rebound. 

With a cold sneer he responded. “Yes, me.”

Nick stepped back as the Dark Lord launched a barrage of his own spells. “Run Perenelle, get away from here.”

Voldemort chuckled vindictively. “I’m not here for her, I’m here for you.”

Launching a number of vicious spells, it didn’t take long for Nick to become overwhelmed. Eventually, a simple _incarcerous_ had him tightly bound on the ground. 

“Watch him, do not touch him. Do not even move unless it seems he is escaping.”

Bella’s eyes widened as she realised he was leaving her with his victim. “Do not do anything stupid.”

He searched through the rest of the rooms at a rapid pace, eventually finding Perenelle in the bedroom in the process of pulling two brooms from under the bed. 

A _petrificulus totalus_ had her frozen on the ground. He levitated her back to the living room, Nick shouting at him when he saw his immobilised wife. 

He dragged Nick along the ground, placing them side by side so he could watch them both. Bellatrix was standing exactly where he left her, appearing disturbed at her role in this. 

“Take a seat.”

Reluctantly she did as he commanded and he turned his attention to his captives. He still almost didn’t believe it, he had actually managed to find him. 

“You are him, are you? _Voldemort._ ” He spat the name out in disgust. “Dumbledore warned me you might be stupid enough to come after me. Tried to get me to hide but I have been around a long time. I have seen many mad men and tyrants, you are no different. I am not afraid of you.”

The Dark Lord pointed his wand threateningly at him, furious at his obstinance but not willing to allow himself to be distracted. “Where is it? Where can I find the stone?”

Nick smiled at him. “The stone is not what you are looking for, I know all about you. Albus told me, you are scared to be mortal, you fear death. You created horcruxes to stop death but he has been finding them. The stone cannot help you.”

It flustered him to hear the truth from Flamel, to hear the gasp from Bellatrix as she connected all the things she had witnessed together. 

“ _Crucio_.”

The man tried his hardest not to scream but a couple of seconds under the curse had him shrieking. 

“Let’s try that again, where is the stone?”

Flamel spat out the blood that had collected his mouth. 

“It doesn’t matter where the stone is, stupid bastard. What you want is to make the Elixir of Life, you will never be able to accomplish that. Even if I gave you everything, you wouldn’t be able to use it.”

“I don’t care for your opinion on the matter, tell me what I want to know. _Crucio._ ”

The old man writhed around again, screaming bloody murder. 

Releasing it after a minute he tried again. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will start in on her.” 

For the first time the man on the floor looked genuinely terrified. 

“ _Finite incantatum.”_ The woman instantly rolled over trying to get to her husband. “ _Crucio_.”

Her scream was a ghastly sound. 

“Please stop hurting her, she doesn’t know anything.”

“You expect me to believe that. Tell me what I want to know.”

This was going to take all night at this rate, at least he had the time. He sent a variety of torture curses, alternating between his two victims. 

After an age, he sat down on the chair, giving them both a chance to catch their breath. He decided to ask a question that had been playing on his mind recently, straightforward questions might loosen their tongues faster.

“Has Dumbledore been using it?”

Flamel raised an eyebrow in surprise at the question when he finally recovered enough to stop his body shaking. “No, he hasn’t. He doesn’t have the same fear as you, he is no coward. He never really saw the benefits of prolonging his life. He said he had seen and learnt enough for a lifetime and would be happy to embrace a natural end when it came.”

Voldemort snorted. “Typical Dumbledore.”

“He is worth a thousand of you. He will end your reign of terror, you will not be able to hide from death forever.”

“You are one to talk, you have lived for hundreds of years.”

Nicholas tensed against the ropes binding him. “Yes I have lived a long time, and seen many upstart terrorisers, believing they can rule over everyone. It always ends badly. I do not fear death, I only fear dying and leaving behind those I love.”

He glanced at his wife who was still panting, she seemed to take longer to recover from the torture.

“Tell me, how long does the potion last?”

Heaving a great sigh, the man on the floor decided to answer. “Two weeks, roughly.”

“When did you last take the potion?”

“Two days ago.”

Voldemort leaned forward, his wand pointing in their direction. “I guess the only thing you haven't considered is the fact that being immortal allows you to be put through endless pain, there will be no end to your suffering, not for nearly two weeks anyway.”

Nicholas managed to get enough momentum to sit up, his body still wrapped in the ropes. His wife was still shuffling around in the ground seemingly in a daze. 

“Have you ever heard of Prometheus? I don't suppose so, nowadays it is rarely taught as it had been when I was growing up. As legend tells us, he was a Titan who stole fire for the benefit of mortals. He chose to share this gift with the rest of humanity. He was caught by Zeus, so as punishment an eagle was tasked with pecking out and eating his liver everyday. As he was immortal, he would fully heal only to have to endure the same agony the next day and so the cycle would continue for an eternity.”

Voldemort had vaguely heard the story before, likely from a muggle storybook from the orphanage. There hadn’t been much to read but he intensely studied anything there was. 

“That’s a fascinating tale, it perfectly exemplifies what I was saying.”

“I have been around for over six hundred years. I am a master alchemist, the stone is my most well known creation but hardly my only.”

It happened so quickly, he couldn’t exactly be sure what happened. Perenelle had rolled over and pulled out some sort of glass bottle out of a drawer from the coffee table beside her. It seemed to be a potion and she smashed it down on the floor. Instantly it ate through the entire floor which dissolved and disintegrated below them. They all fell down into the basement below. Bellatrix was thrown from her chair, landing in a crumpled heap not far from him. He barely fared any better but climbed back to his feet in an instant.

He had heard of such a potion before, supposedly able to dissolve any substance known to man. As he wordlessly moved the large cement sections of ceiling that had collapsed, he uncovered Nicholas clutching onto his wife. He gave a cruel smirk before he realised the other man was tipping another, different vial into the barely conscious Perry’s mouth. 

With a vicious slash of his wand he threw her across the room to slam against the wall with a heavy thud. Voldemort knew immediately it was too late, somehow she was dead. 

When he turned back to Nicholas, a brutal spell shattered the vial in his hand. It was already too late. Nicholas smiled as his breath started to shudder. Voldemort raised his wand, a savage spell on the tip of his tongue, he would ensure the last moments of this man’s life would be agonising. 

Before he could bring his wand down, he was startled by a woman's cry. 

“No, don’t please. He will be dead in seconds, have some mercy.” Her face was tear streaked, he honestly hadn’t expected Bella to become so upset. He wondered if conditioning her to cruelty had made her highly sensitive to any kindness. She had literally only met the couple that evening but was still willing to risk her own safety to interrupt him.

He shoved her away from him, she slammed down onto the stone floor with a cry and clutched her left wrist to herself. Voldemort ignored her, focusing on Flamel as he took his last breath after six centuries. With a shout of frustration he slashed his wand across the other man’s body, a long deep laceration opening up across his chest and abdomen. 

The corpse no longer responded.

He kicked the body of Perenelle, as expected there was no reaction. It was just him and Bellatrix left. She was whimpering pathetically as she held onto her arm, he was sure she must have broken her wrist when all her weight fell back on it. It served her right for interfering. 

“Sit there, do not speak again unless you want to join them. If you’re lucky I might fix that for you.”

Rifling through their clothes, he couldn't find anymore vials. He moved some of the debris to search the room. The basement had clearly been used as a laboratory, all sorts of ingredients and potions were scattered over the room. There were stacks of notebooks and loose sheets lying around the room, some of them remained in their place on the bookshelf. 

With a flick of his wand the books and papers flew up to the air and into the bag he held open. He didn’t have time to read through them now. He wandered around the room trying to find a magical signature, something that would indicate where the stone was. 

“Follow me Bella, we can’t stay long.”

Bellatrix trailed after him slowly as he climbed what was left of the stairs back up to the main house. He wandered from room to room, until he eventually felt a wave of powerful magic. It was in the couple’s bedroom and he recognised the ward coming from the floor. Apparently they were hiding their most important object under the floor boards. 

He knew it was going to drain him, it would take such vast amounts of magical energy to break down wards. Raising his wand, he focused, a bright shining electric blue spell broke from his wand. With a loud bang, it crashed against the small ward, the house seemed to shudder from the force. 

His hands shook as he held the spell, he could feel the ward starting to shake, it only took a few seconds for it to disintegrate completely. 

Voldemort gasped as he tried to catch his breath, his bones and muscles aching with the exertion. Slowly he whipped his wand to rip all the floorboards back. There, underneath him, was the Philosopher’s stone. 

The fatigue melted away as he triumphantly reached for the stone. It was much lighter than he expected and shimmered blood red in the light. He put it away securely and stormed out of the house, grabbing Bellatrix on the way and led them outside. Things were finally starting to go his way.

“ _Morsmorde_.”

His dark mark exploded up into the sky, an ill omen hovering above the house. Bellatrix looked queasy as she watched it shimmering in the dark sky, he grasped her injured wrist and apparated away.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as they returned to the cottage, he let go of Bellatrix. She stepped away from him fearfully, cringing at the pain in her wrist and obviously expecting retribution for her earlier actions. 

A noisy squawk startled both of them and he cautiously pulled out his wand and made his way toward the kitchen. A large tawny owl was perched up on the table, it clumsily walked towards them and held out its leg with a note attached. 

Snatching the letter off it’s leg, he barely restrained himself from killing the thing. He had warned his followers that he didn’t not want to be contacted by owl, he couldn’t imagine who would dare disobey him on this. 

 

_My Lord,_

_I am sure you have already heard the excellent news, as you desired, my father has won the election. Even after such triumph, he seems unable to even crack a smile. He remains firm in his desire to do away with trials for suspected death eaters. He is also making arrangements to have meetings with the goblins, to resolve their issues and get the banking system running smoothly again._

_I wanted to apologise to you my Lord, I am sure you have been made aware of my arrest. It was a great indignity for me to have to denounce you to the Ministry. I hope you can forgive this betrayal and understand that it was only done as I was sure I would be of greater service to you if I was not arrested. I look forward to the day when I can let everyone know of my loyalty to you._

_Your devoted and faithful servant,_

_Barty_

 

The foolish boy. It was clear he was very anxious that Voldemort would be furious with him over a perceived lack of loyalty but to do something as idiotic as send an owl directly to him seemed to go against the boy’s supposed intelligence. 

With a flick of his wand, there was a loud crack as the birds neck was snapped. He vanished it immediately, it would serve as a lesson to the younger boy when it didn’t return. 

He took a seat at the large dining table and pulled the stone out. It gleamed in the light and as he looked at it, he felt a deep stab of pride. He had found Flamel and he had gained possession of the stone, it would not be long before he would figure out how to create the Elixir of Life. By that point his enemies would be on their knees. He wondered vaguely if it was possible to turn the stone into a horcux. 

The Dark Lord glanced up from the stone when he noticed Bellatrix hovering by the door. She was still supporting her injured arm, she strangely reminded him of a small bird whose wing had been broken.

“Sit down.” He pointed to the seat opposite and she did as commanded. 

Her gaze wandered down to the stone but quickly flitted away when she noticed he had seen it. 

“Give me your arm.”

Bella seemed to hesitate for a brief second before she realised she had very little choice. Reluctantly and with great care she stretch out her arm toward him. He could see her wrist was swollen in comparison to the other with some bruising but did not appeared deformed in any other way. 

He took her hand more gently that she had likely expected but she still hissed in pain. 

“You should never interfere in my affairs in such a way. It would be prudent for you to spend more time concerned about keeping yourself safe rather than attempting to protect my enemies and those who get in my way. Understand?”

She nodded, still tense as she expected him to further damage her wrist. 

With a sigh, he moved his wand slowly up and down her forearm. The lights flickered around them and her skin glowed pale blue for a few moments before she sighed in relief. She opened and closed her hand, testing it and gave a small hesitant smile in thanks. 

“Never do that again or you will be punished severely.”

She tried to pulled her arm back to herself but he held on for a few seconds longer before releasing her. 

“Go. It’s late, you should retire for the night.”

She did not need telling twice and left him alone. He pulled out the various notebooks and loose pieces of paper he had collected. He knew that the answer was there somewhere, it unfortunately was going to take some painstaking work. Firstly he set everything out in an order to ensure he not end up duplicating his efforts. He read through a few things, some of it was almost journal like, notations that spanned over a great period of time. The rest were useful tidbits regarding alchemy, information about transfiguration spells and potions. 

After a couple of hours he decided to leave it. He was becoming tired, he had exerted himself a lot that day and it would be better to sort through everything when he was fresh. His own drive wanted him to keep going but he knew it would only take longer if he stuck to it when he was fatigued.

He headed up the stairs, turning off the silly muggle lights as he went. He paused for a moment outside Bella’s room. She had left the door ajar and he could make out the outline of her under the duvet.

Despite his better judgement, he found himself pushing the door further open. The old hinges creaked but it did not disturb her sleep at all. 

Silently he crept into the room to stand over her. Her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, she was in a very deep sleep. He knew she must have been exhausted but it was still surprising, she was usually prone to disturbed sleep and even nightmares.

Taking a steadying breath, he sat on the edge of the bed. With deliberate movements, he brushed her dark curls from her face.

Her skin was pleasantly soft as he stroked her cheek and before he knew what he was doing, he leant down to kiss her cheek. He had wanted to taste her, inhale her natural scent. Pushing passed his own good sense, he leant further to brush his lips against her own. He could feel her warm breath mingle with his own and knew in that second he had to pull away.

Her brow crinkled slightly but she remained in her deep slumber. 

He needed to leave. Before she awoke and saw him, saw the fool that he was being. Creeping around in his servants room like some common criminal, after all he had achieved today. A niggling thought in the back of his mind suggested he deserved some reward for his triumph but he pushed that away. It could be risky, to allow himself such indulgence.  

As quietly as he had come in, he left her room making sure to close the door tight behind him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort rubbed his face, looking back at the instructions before him. All the notes he had stolen from Flamel were spread out on the dining table in a neat order. He had spent hours reading through and trying to decipher the meaning of half the scrawls. He had even spotted Bellatrix sifting through some of them at odd times, she quickly returned them when she knew she was being observed. 

He had managed to write out a list of the key ingredients required, including the role that the stone played. Unfortunately, he was at a lost. Most of the ingredients were rare and expensive, some verging on being quite dark. He had however a vast legion of rich, influential followers who could easily obtain them if ordered. No, it was one particular ingredient that was going to be incredibly difficult to procure, if not impossible. He now understood Flamel’s warning that even with the stone he would be unable to make the elixir. 

The rhythmic chopping that was his soundtrack paused for a moment. He glanced up to see why Bellatrix had stopped. He had given her the task of chopping the Angel’s Trumpet roots and preparing the unicorn hair and mercury. When she noticed his gaze, she spoke shyly. 

“It’s quite sad…” She stopped for a moment as if considering whether it would be wise to continue. “The inspiration for creating the stone. I read it in a few of the notes, even centuries later he was writing about it with such melancholy.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to explain. The information she seemed to want to share was of little use to him but she so rarely spoke of her own volition that he found himself tolerating it. 

“He was a master potioneer and a professor of transfiguration before he delved into alchemy. Their son died when he was only six. The pain from it really affected them both, he worked for years to create it, to prevent anyone else he loved from dying. They didn’t have anymore kids though.”

Voldemort wasn’t entirely convinced by this theory. He understood well enough the desire to be immortal and given one of the key ingredients in the spell, he now understood why the pair had remained together throughout the years. It didn’t help him though. 

Sensing his distraction, Bella returned to her task. He looked down again at the list of his ingredients, one standing out in particular. 

_Blood of a lover gladly offered_

It was preposterous, he couldn’t understand how it could be a part of the Elixir. He remembered Dumbledore’s allusions to the ‘power of love’ before, as if it were a magical entity. Some potent magic that could be harnessed. He was always convinced it was the thing of fairytales. Perhaps it was more than just a concept although he found this difficult to reconcile. 

The reason for the ingredient was unimportant. He was far more concerned with how he was going to get it. He did not love anyone, there was no one in the world in love with him. His followers worshipped him, but they certainly didn’t love him. In fact a large proportion of them despised him and all of them feared him. 

Although it did specify lover rather than loved one and the definition of that seemed loose as well. After all Perenelle was Flamel’s wife but she clearly met the specifications of the spell. 

He glanced up at Bellatrix again, whose focus had returned to her work. Technically, a sexual relationship was enough to class someone as a lover, or so he presumed. He had engaged in intercourse with Bellatrix although whether the fact that it was nonconsensual and that she had no memory of the event impacted this he wasn’t sure. 

The problem was, there was no one else. 

She had probably survived his close company longer than anyone else before but the fact he tolerated her, that he hadn’t killed her, he doubted that would be enough. 

Getting it voluntarily was another issue, it was difficult to know just how much coercion was permissible although he was certain he had to be very careful. It would be extremely dangerous to use such a ingredient incorrectly. He had little option though. 

Watching Bella again, he steeled himself for the task. In his younger days, he knew he had been very charismatic, it was little challenge to convince people to do his bidding. As he gained more power, became more feared, the charisma played less of a role. He just hoped it wasn't a skill that could be lost. He had become to used to demanding the things he wanted. 

Voldemort stood and made his way over to the island counter that Bellatrix was working at, staying on the other side. He noticed she was using the knife they had collected in Albania to chop the ingredients, a clever use as it would certainly do a much cleaner job than the muggle instruments in the kitchen. 

“I require your blood.”

Bella stopped immediately, her eyes widening in alarm. Probably could have been a little more delicate in his approach.

“For this potion, I need a sample of blood. Only a very small amount, about ten drops.” When she continued to stare at him as if he had three heads he added. “I will heal you after.”

Full of suspicion she asked. “This is for the potion? The Elixir of Life?”

He approached closer, not wanting to get too close for fear of scaring her. He had a feeling honesty was probably for the best, she wasn’t stupid and would know exactly what he wanted it for. 

“Yes. For this potion.” 

“You need my blood for this? Why? Surely my blood wouldn’t be good enough?”

There was the tiniest hint of snark attached to the last remark, it was the first time she had ever truly questioned him. It was a shame that the potion stipulated that it had to be voluntarily given. A little bit of torture or the imperious curse would have proven very useful. He wanted to punish her impudence but that would have to come later. Only once he had what he wanted. 

“The potion requires a voluntary donation of blood. From the person who is most in the creators company.” It was embarrassing to even admit that was the truth. He could hardly tell her that it was because he had raped her and thought that would be sufficient for her to count at a lover. 

“I don’t believe you.”

He noticed her grip on the knife tighten and hoped she wasn’t stupid enough to try anything. Attempting to keep the irritation in his voice at a minimum, he tried again. 

“I have no reason to lie to you. There will be a reward in it for you I'm sure, if you agree.” He was really hoping that wouldn't count as coercion, not that it seemed to have much impact.

“There is only one thing I would ever want and you will never agree to it.” She glared at him, then at the sheets of paper scattered all over the table in haphazard order. “You are lying to me.”

Her paranoia was becoming onerous, he knew he had distorted things for her, he had believed chipping away at her psyche would be beneficial but he almost cursed himself for not predicting the difficulties it could cause him. 

In a move he had never anticipated, she raised the knife and held it against her own throat. It was pressed so firmly, he could see the beginnings of blood start to rise under the blade. Unfortunately they would be useless to him. 

His heart gave an awful lurch upon realising her threat was real. 

“Stop it, Bella.”

She glowered at him, her eyes full of mad fire and he knew she was serious. “I do not want to be involved in something so dark. Why would you ever think I would want to help you, I know what you do. I heard what he said about your horcruxes, you split your soul to become immortal. Now you want to steal part of mine, is that it? Is that what your ritual is?” 

She had become hysterical by now and the blade seemed to be digging further into her skin, though she did not notice. He was surprised, he always seemed to forget how she was privy to the discussions going on around them but also that she knew what a horcrux entailed. He knew her understanding of it was not completely accurate but he couldn’t blame her for being paranoid regarding her own soul. If there was a way of harnessing it for his own ends, he probably would have. 

“Don’t be stupid woman, you are talking about things you have no idea about. I do not want your soul, I have no use for it.” His tone was scathing but it did nothing dampen the fire in her eyes. “It is just a few drops of blood, there will be no consequences for you.”

“You think I’m stupid. Do you realise how ridiculous that is? What you are asking?” The impassioned way she was talking to him, somehow it abated his rage to see her this way. The passion that filled her was magnetic. 

“I would rather die than prolong your life.”

Her arm was steady as she held the razor sharp blade in place, a droplet of blood falling from the tip and rolling down toward her breast. They had reached an impasse. He believed that she really would do it, he could feel her determination and hysteria without looking in her mind. Voldemort couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t use the blood for the potion, her death would be futile. 

He stepped back, an act of supplication. “Bella, if you do this, I will consider setting you free. Allow you to return home.”

For a split second her grip faltered but returned as strong willed as ever. “No. I don’t believe you. Even if you are telling the truth, I can’t do it. A few drops of my blood, and how many more people would be killed from that simple act?”

The Dark Lord wanted to raise his wand against her, he wanted to scream and shout but he didn’t. Any sudden movements could send the skittish woman over the edge. 

“Stop this nonsense now. I will not force you to do this, the point is that it is voluntary. Put the knife down.”

Sceptical, she didn’t initially do as he asked. “Promise.”

Rolling his eyes at her, he responded with a touch of sarcasm. “I promise I will not take your blood, or your soul. If you stop acting like a maniac and put the knife down, I may forget this act of insolence.”

The intense blaze in her eyes held another moment before she slowly lowered the knife back to the counter. A red line had appeared across her throat, a drop of blood welling at one corner, ready to chase the other one down into her cleavage. 

He found it difficult to believe she had given up the prospect of freedom, of reward, just to prevent him from extending his life. She already knew he had a horcrux, by denying him her blood she wasn’t really doing very much. 

Yet again he failed to understand her. 

He had somehow led himself to believe that after all this time together, she had adapted and accepted her lot. Threatening to kill herself was something he had never expected, not after all this time. He didn’t think she had that much spirit left in her for such an act. 

Sitting back down at the table, he rifled through everything again. He would find an alternative. If Flamel had managed to create the potion from scratch, he knew he would be able to push the boundaries, especially as he knew the foundation of it already. 

The other option was to seduce her. He could not love another but surely it would be enough to gain her affection. It would mean gaining her trust, her esteem. Undoing the obedience he trained into her. Voledmort quickly pushed that idea from his mind. He could not abide the thought of her believing she had any value to him. 

Without looking up, he could sense Bella casting suspicious glances toward him. She did not believe that she would get away with such rebellious behaviour and he knew he ought to punish it for her. 

Punishment is always that more terrible, when it is unexpected.

The Dark Lord stood suddenly, he could no longer linger on this enterprise, further research was required before he was likely to make any progress. Bellatrix stopped, warily taking a step back as if that would in any way help her. 

“Make sure you clear that all away now. Take care with the mercury, it needs to be secure.” 

Many an experienced alchemist had been taken out by their arrogance regarding the dangerousness of the metal. He watched as she cleared it away, he could tell she was used to dealing with unstable potion ingredients. 

“When you have tidied everything away and cleaned, get dinner ready.”

“Yes, master.” 

He left her to it and headed to the large reception room. He had set up a floo connection there as well, he realised it would be more proper as he was intending to bring followers to the house. The bedroom would not be large enough to comfortably host guests. 

Voldemort summoned Tiberius Avery and Rabastan Lestrange. Within seconds both were stood before him, heads bowed in reverence. 

“I have brought you here to discuss specific plans I have for the both of you.”

The men stood before him, faces severe and serious. 

“Avery, I have given you the honourable task of killing Mitchum. I understand this may be challenging but it is essential you complete this within the next two days. You may enlist your own trainee’s to assist you but any failure on their part will result in grave consequences for yourself, do you understand?”

The sallow, greasy man paled a little at this but nodded. “Yes, my Lord. I am to kill Mitchum.”

“Yes, do not get caught. If you are caught you must not reveal you were acting on my orders. If you are caught do not tell them whose orders you were acting on and I will ensure you will be freed in a timely manner.”

Voldemort had originally planned to give the task to the other man but given his brother had murdered the last Minister, he thought it would be an even more monumental challenge. 

“Rabastan, you are to arrange a meeting with Lorcan Conall. He can bring one other with him, I do not need an entire pack turning up. Arrange it by tomorrow, you will need some time to track them.”

It was not a very pleasant task, all Pureblood’s hated dealing with the werewolves, their bigotry clear but it was still a preferable task to killing a high ranking ministry official. Especially after his brother had recently been killed after doing the same. 

He dismissed them with a wave and green light flashed in the room as they each took their turn leaving. If his plans all fell into place, the ministry could fall into his control over the next week. 

Voldemort stared into the flickering flames of the fire for a moment. Everything he had been working towards had been set up like dominos, it was imperative they all fell at the right time. He was impatient to get want he wanted but knew it was not worth rushing and potentially thwarting everything he had accomplished so far. 

The room darkened as he mulled over these thoughts. It was only the sound of a pot banging down onto the ground that brought him out of this reverie. He couldn't be certain how long he had been sat there but as soon as he was jolted back from his thoughts he realised Bella would surely have finished preparing dinner by now.

Unsure why the feeling had settled in his stomach, he entered the kitchen with some apprehension. 

A harried Bellatrix was cleaning up whatever had been in the pot that was now on the floor before standing and throwing the rest of it in the bin. She moved a few plates around seemingly at a loss as what to do next, she looked as if she wanted to start crying. 

“What is going on? Dinner should be ready by now.” As he approached he noticed a lot of cooked food thrown into the bin. It seemed as if she had made several attempts with dinner.

She whipped around at the sound of his voice. Her hair had become frizzy and wild with cooking and she looked frazzled. Subconsciously she moved the plates again as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“There is something wrong with the food. I couldn’t serve it, I made more but I dropped the last pot. I don’t know why it’s gone bad.”

She ran her hand through her knotted locks, tugging on them hard, her voice thick with emotion. 

He still couldn’t understand what she was talking about, perhaps she was convinced she would be punished for dropping the food but considering everything that he had let her away with already that day alone it didn't tally. 

“The only thing wrong with the food was that it was dropped, make something else that’s quick to cook and it can be forgotten.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp then, as if some clarity had returned to her. “No, the food is rotten, contaminated. It doesn’t taste the way it should. Maybe the muggles have poisoned it.”

She opened a cupboard, searching through it as if there would be something new in it. Voldemort noticed now another pot on the stove filled with food. She had obviously spent all that time making various meals. 

There was something wrong with her. He wondered if this was why she hadn’t been eating very well for days on end or that perhaps her self-imposed starvation was making her delirious.

“Bellatrix stop. What is going on?”

Her nervous movements around the kitchen continued and he eventually gave up and grabbed onto her shoulders to stop her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and scared. 

“There is nothing wrong with the food. We have been eating it already.”

Her eyes watered in a mix of confusion and mistrust. “No it tastes strange. I-I…” 

She seemed to be at a loss for words. With some reluctance, he probed into her mind. 

He cringed at the anxiety, the chaotic discordant thoughts that swelled up and broke away. It was messier than he expected and difficult to trace the origin of her delusion. There seemed to be some truth to her altered sense of taste but that alone meant little compared to the rest of her claims. 

Voldemort pulled back, more disoriented and with little more understanding. So her claims of strange tastes were true but that meant little. He himself had vastly changed his own sense of taste with the use of dark magic. An errant spell could have been the source but the rest of her ideas were bizarre. 

“You’ve become paranoid. There is nothing wrong with the food.”

Releasing her shoulders he moved to the pot that still had food in it. He dipped a finger in to catch some of the sauce before raising it to his lips. 

“No, Master.”

Ignoring her, he licked it all. They both stood there expectantly for a few moments.

“See nothing. There is no poison. Sit down and we will eat some.”

Closing her mouth into a firm line, she shook her head. 

“Sit down now Bellatrix. You will eat.”

He picked the pot up, slamming it down on the table before placing a bowl before her and setting one for himself. She had that same stubborn, rebellious look in her eyes as she had earlier in the day. He slopped out a serving for the pair of them.

“Do you know what muggles used to do? When someone needed to eat but refused to?”

With a trace of fear at his sharp tone, she shook her head again. Her thumb was scratching at the wooden table but he doubted she realised she was doing it. 

“They would stick tubes in their noses or mouths and pour the food down it. They would strap them down so they couldn’t resist or be sick and clamped their mouths open until their bellies were full.”

She gasped in horror at the idea, at the unspoken threat.

“Now eat, even just half of it.”

He sat down on his own side absentmindedly eating his own as he watched her take very small tentative bites. She grimaced after each one and looked vaguely queasy but kept going under his sharp eyes. 

Tears sprung to her eyes as she chewed, he looked away from the sight for a moment. It didn’t matter how she felt, she had to eat. It was a basic human function, not even one he could get away from despite his horcruxes. He needed her to be strong, needed her to be able to fight if needed. 

“I can’t… It’s making me sick.”

With a sigh, he saw she had just about managed about half the bowl. “Fine, clean everything up then. No more of this nonsense.”

Pushing his own empty bowl away, he left her to it. He traipsed up to his room, taking the notes and books with him that he needed. 

He had to find something for his Elixir. Without it, there would always be doubt about his ability to defeat Dumbledore. His mind wandered as he skimmed through the dense texts. He wished he was still able to rely on Severus. The man’s keen thirst for knowledge particularly around anything to do with potions or anything dark, were immense. He knew the younger man would have enjoyed the intellectual challenge of assisting him with this task. 

Almost certain as he was at the professor’s traitorous loyalties, he could not think on it. To discuss it with him would invite Dumbeldore to know of all his plans. It hadn’t struck the Dark Lord as merely coincidence that all his plans seemed to be successful now that his spy had been forced out. 

His thoughts wandered from this betrayal, to think on his servant. Her mental state seemed to be deteriorating, he was no longer sure it would make her more valuable, more malleable. The fact he was concerned at all about her was causing him worry. He had considered using her for his Elixir, had failed to punish her for her revolt and had attempted to ensure she did not waste away to nothing. 

He was spending to much time with her, he could feel her influence on him growing and the fact he cared at all was bad. The Dark was no longer certain that he could claim she meant nothing to him, was not sure he believed she was just there to assist him.

She refused to give up her blood, therefore she was of no real value to him. That’s what he needed to focus on, worrying about whether or not she has had dinner is distracting him from what he should be thinking about. 

Voldemort sat there in the dimming room, convincing himself of these things. Steeling himself, for he knew there was only one way to end this hold she had over his thoughts. 

Grasping his wand with determination, he left his room. The house was darkened now, he made his way toward the stairs when he realised she would surely have returned to her room by now. Turning the other way, he furiously strode to her room, throwing the door open without a second thought. 

She was sat on the double bed, her back against the headboard, reading one of the muggle’s books. By now she had changed into her night dress and had appeared quite relaxed before he had barged in. 

Bellatrix flinched as the door slammed open, her eyes immediately taking in the wand grasped tightly in his hand and the determination in his eyes. 

Instead of begging, or trying to run away or making any attempt to save her life, she closed the book setting it beside her. She watched his approach with sad eyes.

His own confusion caused the determination to dissipate slowly away. She knew, she could see why he had come to her, yet her reaction said the opposite. 

When it became apparent that he had frozen in his intent, she spoke up. 

“You’ve come to kill me.” Such resignation in her voice, it was clear she had believed it was only a matter of time. 

It still hadn’t roused him into action. “Are you not afraid?”

Bella brought her knees up closer to herself but in no other way acted to defend herself. 

“Yes.” It was a breathless whisper. “But I have had time to become accustomed to my fate.”

Such a strange woman, he couldn’t understand how someone could ever become desensitised to the idea of their own death. 

He took an awkward, rigid step closer to her and noticed as her eyes fluttered shut. 

She still feared him, was still terrified of the pain he could inflict on her but she had always expected to be killed by his hand. Her surrender to death was startling.

Again he stepped further into the room until he was standing over the bed, his wand raised toward her.

The dark haired woman did not open her eyes. Her breaths were short and shallow but gave no other indication of her fear. 

Time seemed to freeze as he stood there, his mind racing but his body unwilling. Eventually he sunk down on the bed beside her. 

The dip in the bed was enough to force her eyes to open. She stared at him with open disbelief but had not relaxed yet. 

He dove a hand into her thick, dark hair, it had calmed a little from its earlier state but he could still feel the knots. He was rough but not as he had been and his thumb, with a measure of gentleness, stroked her temple. As perceptive as ever, she seemed to sense the change in his mood.

“I find I do not want to.”

She made strange sound at that, something like a hiccup but sharper. Voldemort had not meant to say it out loud, had not meant to reveal this weakness to her. Her hand raised to her hair to rest over his own. Her warmth melted him at last and he wrenched her head toward him, allowing her to rest it on his chest and he managed to untangle his hand and hung it over her shoulder in some parody of a hug. 

Her hand wrapped across his abdomen and he could feel her trembling lightly. He knew she was quietly crying, to what end he was unsure, nevertheless he placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, perhaps it would be a comfort. 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

 

Voldemort made his way down the stairs when he heard the roar of someone stepping through the fireplace. It was later in the morning than he usually woke and he had been disorientated when he had woken in Bella’s chosen room. 

After his failure kill her, he stayed with her. It was a small comfort to the both of them. He had untangled himself this morning when the room had brightened from the sunlight shining through the thin curtains. He had left her half dozing on her bed, she only seemed half aware that he had left her as she curled up further.

As he strode into the reception room, he met Avery. The man was attempting to disguise his smugness, a newspaper wrapped tightly in his hands. He gave a sharp nod to his Lord before holding it out to him.

“My Lord, sorry to disturb you but I believed you would want to see the news this morning.” 

The Dark Lord ignored him as the large bold headline stuck out. _Minister Minchum murdered._ Not a particularly inventive title but the large bold words were stark and threatening. 

 _“_ You were successful then?”

“Yes, my Lord. It was not as difficult as anticipated. One of your followers works in his department, got talking to his personal secretary. Once we knew where he lived, it was rather straightforward. Only he and his wife were home, both dead.”

“I am glad you were successful, I have been rather disappointed by a number of my followers recently. I have further plans for attacks, something I think you will enjoy. You will be charged with gathering everyone for a meeting tomorrow, all my inner circle, any one with a hint of bloodlust. It will also serve as a perfect training opportunity.”

Avery appeared rather chuffed at the responsibility he was given, it was rather easy to power play his highest circle of followers against each other.

“You are dismissed.” 

He waved his hand and the other man took the hint, vanishing into the fireplace. 

Flattening the newspaper out onto the small desk, he smirked at the front page. It was nice to have everything go his way.

His second meeting of the day would be happening shortly and he needed to change out of the robes he had slept in. 

By the time he had returned to the reception room, Bellatrix was there. The newspaper on the desk had been folded over but she made no allusion to it. She was sat crossed legged on the ground beside the small bookcase. She was wearing a chunky oversized purple jumper, he didn’t recognise it and suspected she had finally given in and found something among the muggle clothes to wear. 

There were a couple of small stacks of books beside her but she was preoccupied with three boxes of board games she had unearthed.

“Where did they come from?”

She glanced up at him with surprise at his silent entrance. “I found them at the bottom of the bookcase. I wasn’t sure what they were.”

She lifted the cardboard lid off the box, confused by the contents. 

Nudging one of the boxes with his foot, he responded with a sneer. “They are muggle games, something they pull out when they are bored. Like our equivalent of gobstones or exploding snap, I suppose.”

He remembered the silly muggle games. There had been a number of old board games at the orphanage when he was a child, he didn’t think there had been one that had even half the original pieces left in them. Even if there had been, he would never have had anyone to play against. 

For a beat, he wondered if she expected him to suggest a game. She shuffled through the contents for a few moments before replacing the lid and putting it away. She would be waiting an eon for him to offer to partake, he was not her babysitter. 

“Clear this away and get up. I have guests arriving in the next few minutes.”

Bella did as he requested.

He watched her for a few moments as she cleared things away. He felt there was still some tension there after everything he had revealed to her. He had never intended to say it allowed, to let her know of the strange hold her had over him. He felt compelled to say something to defuse the tense atmosphere but didn’t get the chance. 

The reception room flashed green as two hulking figures stepped out of the fireplace. Both were hairy and dirty, their clothes barely held together. It would be obvious to anyone that they were werewolves. 

“Lorcan.” 

The older, larger one gave a small bow. “My Lord.”

He looked to the younger man who was watching him closely. 

“I have brought Fenrir Greyback with me. I wanted him to understand the importance of our alliance.”

Lord Voldemort barely acknowledged him, he did not want to get drawn into inter-werewolf politics. 

“My followers will be conducting a number of raids across the country, I want you all involved. The more terror the better.”

The two beasts grinned maliciously at the suggestion. 

He pulled a map out of cloak and handed it to the older man. “I have marked the best strategic points of attack on the settlements in your territory. You can divide your people as you see fit, just make sure you cause as much damage as possible.”

The older man accepted the map, sparing it only a glimpse. 

“We will cause a right terror, my Lord.”

“Just make sure you don't attack preemptively.” He let the words sink in for a moment before changing the subject. “Now tell me, have you found this Remus Lupin?”

Greyback growled as his elder calmly shook his head. “No my Lord. We haven’t heard anything about a werewolf of that name among us. There are a lot that have left, either voluntarily to join other packs or to hunt alone or were forced out. He could have been one of them. We are certain that there is no traitor among us now.”

“You had better be certain Lorcan. If any of my plans are spilled to the other side, if they catch any hint of this planned attack,  Greyback will be leading your pack sooner than planned. Now go.”

The younger man seemed surprised that they were dismissed so quickly, obviously Lorcan was used to such treatment.  As they moved back towards fireplace, Bellatrix came into the room. 

The two men immediately stopped, the younger of them sniffing the air. It made Voldemort’s skin crawl as he saw how their hungry eyes lingered on her. 

Bellatrix stumbled back in alarm under their intense eyes. 

“Sorry, I‘ll go.”

“No, no it’s fine young lady. We were just leaving.”

Despite their words, spoken with faux politeness, neither of them moved to go. Greyback took a step closer to her, a low, cruel rumble of laughter came from him when Bellatrix jumped back. 

“Don’t worry little girl, your scent is off to us, we can smell that you have been marked by someone else.” 

The werewolf glanced surreptitiously toward the Dark Lord but was wise enough to add nothing further. Lorcan merely chuckled at the look of pure contempt she was giving them. 

“Come on, Fenrir. Can't outstay our welcome.”

The older man lead them to the fire and they vanished. The Dark Lord watched the empty fireplace for a moment, wondering where they had travelled to. Werewolf communities would rarely make use of Floo, they had little time for the official transport networks of wizard folk.

Voldemort turned to Bellatrix in wry amusement as she shook herself, as if she could throw off something invisible left by their leering gaze. 

“Unfortunately, sometimes in life we have to deal with rather unsavoury characters.”

She looked poised to respond but decided it would be wiser to remain silent. 

“Grab those three books I left upstairs and bring them down to the kitchen.”

Voldemort walked passed her on his way kitchen, pinching the shoulder of her thick jumper, stopping her from skipping off. “You should use some cleaning spells on these clothes before wearing them, you don’t know what you could catch from muggles.”

With a frown she looked down at the oversized jumper. He didn’t want the smell of them lingering on her. 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Bellatrix was stood at the end of the table watching as he glanced between the large old textbook and the sprigs of Motherwort he was slicing. 

He paused for a moment to throw her a withering look. She stood up straight but didn't completely back down. Voldemort had spent the last few hours preparing and researching, finally he had reached the point that he wanted to put the theory into practice.

“If you are planning to add that to your cauldron, is what I mean, Master.”

The Dark Lord set his knife down giving her calculating look. She seemed to understand that he hadn’t appreciated her input. His eyes drifted to the book again, he knew there was no way he had miscalculated. He found it difficult to believe that she would be so blatant in her attempts to sabotage him. 

“What? Explain yourself and speak clearly.”

She pulled at the heavy jumper she was wearing, likely overheating in the stuffy room with the cauldron bubbling. “I mean Master, that I would not be inclined to add Motherwort when you already have a combination of aconite juices. The Motherwort would cause a rather volatile reaction.” 

Her words became more confident as she explained but he waved her off. 

“I am not a fool. I understand that but the lovage that is already in there will neutralise the reaction, it will be perfectly harmless.”

He knew this, he had done his research and was sure it would work. He rolled his eyes when he noticed her chewing her lower lip, obviously dying to say something. 

“What?”

If she sensed his rapidly deteriorating patience, she paid it no attention. “That would work except you already added the dust of ferret bone. The effect of it is reduced by its presence. The problem is that it is also needed as a stabilising ingredient for your deadlyius.”

Something about what she was saying sounded familiar. Perhaps he had read about that effect but he needed all the ingredients he had prepared to make it work. By taking any one of them out, it would be useless. 

Rubbing his eyes in frustration he ignored her. She had only been watching from the side, she had no idea what he was trying to accomplish. She may know her way around a few potions but he had done his research. He had to extrapolate from other sources he had found but it would work. 

“It will work.” Echoing his own thoughts he finished cutting the herb. “What do you know? You spent your time concocting simple elixirs and a few illegal or dark potions, you think that makes you an expert. So it brought in a bit of money to live on but it’s hardly much of a talent. If you have nothing helpful to contribute then stay quiet. I will make this work.”

Bella took a step right back from the table, a quick flash and her wand was out, down by her side as she backed toward the wall. Her cautiousness irked him but he found it infective. Attempting to appear nonchalant, he took two steps back, using his wand to raise the diced herbs and tip them into the cauldron. 

The potion inside bubbled thickly for a moment before it settled. He raised his chin, proud that her concerns had been ill-founded. When he turned to her, she still looked worried, likely to now be considering his response to her unnecessary interference. 

He felt himself being propelled forward as a loud bang came from the cauldron. He landed on his back after rolling just outside the room. He was dazed for a moment before his senses returned, furious that he not only failed but it had been just as Bellatrix had predicted.

Climbing quickly to his feet he looked back into the kitchen. Bella had been knocked back from the force, hitting the far wall. Obviously she had been too slow with the wand in her hand. 

He took a step toward the door, ready to snap at her despite her disorientation. It was only then that he noticed the faint white haze that had rapidly filled the room. The effervescent concoction had released some sort of noxious gas that had filled the room in seconds. 

A choking cough had him jolted into action as he understood that Bella had inhaled a lot of whatever the side product had been. Swirling his wand, the light fog collected into a dense sphere as he held it safely condensed. Vanishing the mess inside the half exploded cauldron, he levitated the sphere into it and sealed it over. He had a feeling that he may need to dissect exactly what it was. 

“Bella.” He gave a forceful nudge to her thigh, she coughed again as she seemed to come around. “Bellatrix, get up.”  

It took her a moment but when she looked up she gave him a slow, languorous smile. It was strangely seductive. 

“Bella.”

He could only just hide the hint of concern in his voice. 

“Master.” A full smile appeared now, such a foreign sight. She held her hand out to him and caught by surprise, he gave her his own to help pull her up from the ground. 

She jumped straight upward with a burst of energy, she didn’t seem to need his help at all but even when she was back on her own two feet, she held onto his hand for an uncomfortably long time. 

“See, I told you. Too unstable. Now, look at this mess.” 

Bellatrix held his hand in both her own and it seemed the only way he was going to get it back was to yank it away. She was too distracted by the havoc created from the accident to notice and moved toward the half melted copper cauldron. 

“Do not get too close to that.”

Ignoring his sharp warning, she threw him a playful smile over her shoulder before tapping the metal cauldron, a metallic prang ringing out. 

“Well that’s your cauldron destroyed, you’ll definitely need a new one now.”

“Obviously.”

He watched her closely. There was something off with her that he couldn't really put his finger on. It was irritating, by now she should be predictable, kept in the background like an old sleepy cat, company but happy to be ignored. He needed to concentrate on his elixir, not her fickle moods. 

“That one had seen better days anyway, you should ask your followers to bring you a proper new one, not some antique they have just laying around.” 

With a fingernail, she picked at the deep black scorch marks on the table before jumping in apparent surprise. “Oh, you should try Petrovyck’s. They do the finest quality pewter and tungsten cauldrons, they even engrave the prettiest designs into them. Although that could be a bit of a waste of time if you just plan to keep destroying them.”

He frowned at her teasing words. “Careful.” He was no longer warning her regarding her proximity to the remnants of the potion. 

“You probably want me out of your hair now don’t you?” She walked straight up to him, her hands resting on his biceps. He was alarmed by her audacious behaviour and it took him a few seconds to realise her pupils looked very strange. He completed missed whatever tangent her one sided conversation had gone off into. 

“And that’s why the toad is purple.” She eyes seemed to become vacant for a moment before the energy came barrelling back. “Now we must look through the texts again. So the first attempt was shit, now you just have to tweak things a bit to get it right. Oh, or maybe I should clean first, don’t want any contamination from whatever came out of that.”

She clapped her hands determinedly but Voldemort grabbed hold of her face as she tried to move away, attempting to keep her still for a second. She gave a throaty laugh at his manhandling, completely unfazed. 

“Look at me.”

The eyes that had been darting around the room fixed on him. The edges of her pupils were irregular and seemed to pulse and ripple, it was unnatural. 

“I feel like I can see inside your head.”

Her peering gaze was curious but he dismissed her immediately as he continued his analysis of her eyes. “You can’t. You can’t do legilimency and even if you could, I am an expert occlumens, my mind would be impenetrable and I would, at the very least, be able to feel your attempts.”

“So how do I know you want to fuck me?”

He released her as if her skin had burned him. Her suggestive whisper could have been seductive but he found it mortifying. He had never expected such crassness from her. 

She gave a drunken giggle at his reaction before taking on a babyish tone. “Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you blush.” She attempted to reach out and pinch his cheek but he grabbed her wrist before she could get close and dragged her roughly. 

Flicking his wand, an upturned dining chair righted itself and he threw her down onto it. She smiled, apparently oblivious to his fury. He felt humiliated by her words, he wasn’t exactly sure for the reason behind it. 

“Keep silent, I will not indulge your vulgar fantasies.”

He hated the fact that she was out of his control. Seemingly out of her own control as well. 

“Maybe it’s not an ingredient that it’s missing.”

Voldemort paced as she wittered on about something or other. The vapours from the mess of a potion had obviously poisoned Bella. It had changed her behaviour in some way, disinhibiting her and making her more honest. Something that could be very dangerous. 

He had no idea how long the effects would last, it likely wasn’t permanent, the erratic physical changes and altered behaviour suggested a brief intoxication reaction. 

She made to stand up but he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Stay where you are or I’ll have to strap you down.”

Bella pouted exaggeratedly but he ignored her, walking around until he was behind her. His fingers wound through her hair, searching the back of her head for an lacerations or evidence of head injury that could be compounding the symptoms. 

His lower abdomen clenched uncomfortably when she gave a low, indulgent moan.  

“Stop it Bella.” His voice was much hoarser than he would have liked. 

There was no sign of injury and he reluctantly pulled away. He didn’t like her this way.

“My Lord?”

He froze as he heard Barty Crouch Jr call out from the living room. It had completely slipped his mind that he had arranged a visit.  He thought about dismissing him immediately but he knew it was becoming increasingly difficult for the boy to slip away from his overbearing family. He couldn’t afford to arouse any suspicion yet. 

“Stay here. Do not move.”

Bellatrix nodded enthusiastically and he strode into the next room, determined to hide this latest development. 

Barty bowed when he saw his Lord, relief as if he was finally seeing the sun rise after an endless night, passed over his features. “My Lord, it is an honour to meet with you again.”

With little patience for this now, he pressed him. “Tell me what has been happening.”

“I have barely seen my father, my Lord. He is under a lot of fire at the moment after the murder of Mitchum. There are whispers about a conspiracy and he is under pressure to have the case solved quickly and the perpetrators punished. He has pushed ahead with doing away with a requirement for trials for death eaters, he may have got a majority in the Wizengamot now that everyone is feeling so unsafe but he circumvented this process as it would have taken much longer.”

“Good.”

He wouldn’t let the younger man know just how much this news pleased him. 

“He has also arranged to meet with the goblins, the day after next I think. A lot of the-”

Barty didn’t get a chance to finish as at that second, Bellatrix decided to barge into the room. 

“I haven't seen you in such a long while, weren't you in prison or something. You are looking okay considering that.” She crossed the room as both men stood watching her, mouths agape. She moved toward him as if she were some sort of welcoming hostess. 

“You know I don’t much like you but I suppose that’s not really fair, have to let bygones be bygones.” She shook his hand vigorously, perhaps in a form of greeting. “Your hands are quite soft, nearly feminine.” 

Bella turned their clasped hands over inspecting Barty’s. It took the young man a moment to gather his wits and he ripped his hand away from her, shoving her backwards and snarling. 

“Bellatrix, I told you to stay put.” 

“But there is too much to do to just stay in one place all the time.” She rocked in a dreamy motion for a moment and Voldemort noticed his young follower smirk in amusement.

“Have you finally broken her my Lord? She’s turned bonkers.”

He didn’t want to carry on this spectacle any longer, he needed to get her out of the way but he could hardly just dismiss her, there was no telling the damage she could do out of his sight. 

“I have two tasks for you Barty. I am very pleased with the information you have been able to bring me and I am placing my trust that you will be successful.” 

The Dark Lord threw Bellatrix back onto the ground as she sidled up whilst he was talking, looking almost as if she were considering hugging him. 

“I want Slughorn. Now that Severus has betrayed us, I need another potion master. I don't know if you know Horace Slughorn, he once taught at Hogwarts.”

Barty nodded, trying to ignore the way Bella was splayed out on the floor like a child watching them both curiously. If the young man despised her before, this was certainly not going to help matters.

“Yes I am familiar with him my Lord. He taught me at school, he only retired a couple of years ago.”

“I need you to find him. Convince him to join our side, willingly preferably. I will call upon you in the next couple of days. There will be raids up and down the country, I need you there, is that clear.”

It wasn’t framed like a question but Barty nodded frantically. “I will not disappoint you, my Lord.”

“See that you don’t. Now go, and do not speak of anything you have seen here today. To anyone.”

Understanding this, the young man moved directly toward the fireplace, seeming to deliberately stand on Bella’s fingers on his way.

She cried out in shock but Barty was already vanishing, a sly smile on his face as the flames engulfed him. 

“Get up.”

The Dark Lord tried to hold his rage in check, his embarrassment flicked immediately to anger and he was furious at her disobedience and that she was showing him up in such a way. It was only because he knew she was completely out of her mind that he wasn’t punishing her grievously. 

Bellatrix did as commanded, jumping up with a burst of energy, bounding across the room. Before she could get anywhere else and cause havoc, he grasped her around the middle and threw her over his shoulder. She made some attempt to struggle so he bound her limbs as he held her, questioning himself as to why he hadn’t done it earlier.  
  
“You are such a spoilsport. I hate you so much.”

“Shut up you silly woman.”

He carried her up the stairs and dumped her unceremoniously onto her bed. “You are to stay here until whatever this is wears off or until I have found an antidote.”

“But there’s nothing to do, it’s so boring.” Her whining was grating to his ears. 

“Perhaps you should spend the time thinking about the multitude of things you have done to humiliate yourself and by extension me, think about all the ways I should punish such outrageous behaviour.”

She struggled against the bonds, wriggling on the bed before realising it was futile. She let out a huff, “Fine then, my mind will just shrink as I lie here with nothing to do.You could at least keep me company.”

He shook his head at her argument before leaving her room, closing the door behind him. At least there she could cause no further trouble and it gave him some peace. He paused briefly, considering to himself her rather honest state. Now would be the time to interrogate her, find out her knowledge regarding horcruxes, how she even knew what they were, what she thought about him and how she felt about never returning home. He was curious but unsure whether he really wanted these thoughts answered. 

Returning to the kitchen, he looked into the cauldron, the gas that had been there was shrinking away. He expected that the effect on Bellatrix would be similarly transient. 

Without a second thought he vanished the mess left behind and settled down in front of the textbook he had left open. Reading through everything again, he had more of an understanding of why it had failed. He hated to admit to himself that he was unhappy Bellatrix had correctly predicted the outcome. He appreciated her sharp mind, that was not a problem, he had always respected those with a modicum of intelligence, they were hard to come by. It was the fact that she had been right whilst he had been wrong, he didn’t appreciate being bested by others. Especially someone who was little more than a housemaid to him. He preferred her restrained intelligence, like a clever pet that has been well trained. `

Flicking idly through the crinkled pages he concluded that he was approaching his task the wrong way, It was unlikely that simple ingredients were enough to replace what he needed for the elixir. He needed to find some sort of equivalency, either some sort of way of creating a bond of ‘love’. Others may have dismissed this as implausible but he knew that amortentia had provided an example that it was artificially possible. It wouldn't be useful in this context but if there was some other way of harnessing its potential, it would likely solve this riddle. 

His other option was find some sort of emotional equivalency. He wasn't sure exactly how he could approach this, he didn’t understand what love was, it would be nigh impossible to figure out something that could work in its place. His natural instinct was to lean toward hatred, toward fear, both primal intense responses he could grasp. Something in his bones told him that would lead him in the wrong direction of where he wanted to be. 

He sat there for a long time musing on this, jotting simple notes every so often with a quill before scratching them out. He considered using a relationship between someone else, the Malfoy’s perhaps but that wouldn’t work. They would have to make the potion themselves and there was no guarantee it would work for anyone else. He would have to reveal to them he had the stone, give them an idea of the use of the Elixir, fill their heads with the thought of immortality. He did not want their thoughts lingering on this idea, only he could live forever. 

After a few hours he decided to check on Bellatrix again. His anger had simmered down and he was sure by now the effects of the potion would have started to dissipate. 

As he crept up the stairs, he couldn’t hear anything from her room. He pushed the door open with some trepidation, a sense of relief when he saw that she was still tied up on the bed and awake. 

He knew instantly that the effects had worn off. She looked up with him, clarity behind her eyes and her expression tight. The mad, frenetic energy was completely gone. 

Stepping up to the bedside, he waved his wand to vanish the thick binds around her. She gave a soft sigh of relief as she was able to relax her joints, rolling out her wrist to loosen the stiffness that had settled. 

Voldemort said nothing for a few moments, let the oppressive air hang thick around them, he could practically taste her fear and remorse. 

Finally showing some mercy he spoke, holding out a hand to help her sit up on the edge of the bed, she needed the assistance now.   
“How do you feel now?”

Her hands shook as she shifted, her head bowed and frazzled hair hanging limp around her. “Like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over me.” She took a deep, steadying breath before finally catching his eye. “I’m so sorry Master, I don’t know what happened.”

He cut her off with a raised hand. “Do you remember what happened after the accident?”

“It’s, it’s all hazy. I remember just feeling so much energy, like I could do anything in the world. I was talking about rubbish, oh-“ She gasped, her hand clapped over her mouth as her eyes widened in panic. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, I don’t know why I would say any of those things, please, I didn’t mean it.”

It seemed she was about to cry and he knew she was terrified of his reaction, she seemed as traumatised as he had been by her words and suggestions. She shrunk back away in fear either because she was sure he would punish her or that he may take her earlier words as a suggestion or invitation. She yelped when he aimed a stinging jinx at her.  He really would rather she didn’t bring it up again, it was bad enough he had to face it the first time. 

“Stop it. Your apologies are meaningless now. I can't reverse the things that my followers have witnessed or the disgusting way in which you humiliated yourself. Obviously the effect of the potion vapours was for you to spout ridiculous remarks. Clearly your higher functions were inhibited, leading to base responses, something I would expect from degenerates and filthy muggles.”

She seemed puzzled at his rationale but he knew she wouldn’t dare challenge it, not when it seemed he was not likely to start torturing her senseless. 

He could sense her thoughts gravitate toward the potion.  “Forget it, I have disposed of what was left, now get up. Enough of this feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Yes, of course Master.” 

She attempted to stand, her legs shaking and unsteady. He placed a hand between her shoulders to prevent her toppling over and conjured a glass of water in the other. 

“Take this, it will help.”

Gratefully she clasped it between her tremulous hands, taking a long drink. It seemed to clear her thoughts a little, or at least distract her from the intrusive memories of what had occurred earlier that day and she gave him a small smile in thanks. He vanished it as soon as she lowered the glass. 

“The kitchen needs to be cleared up. Get something to eat as well.”

He removed his hand and she stumbled a little but caught herself, he was already at the door and didn’t look back at her. It had briefly run through his mind what could have happened if he had been as similarly effected by the vapour. If he had lost all self-restraint and inhibition. It made his heart race to consider and he promised himself he would be much more careful with any further potion attempts. He could think of very few things that would be worse than such a loss of self control. 

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

 

The Dark Lord disapparated from the scene of carnage as a hoard of inferi were unleashed upon the sleepy English town. Their movements were cumbersome but he knew they would complete their task without fear or conscience. He had given them only one command, _kill._

He appeared at another of the towns he had chosen as a target. As soon as he apparated, his followers cheered and hollered loudly in exuberance, pausing momentarily in their massacre. Among them he recognised Yaxley and Travers. There were more cloaked followers, he could tell from their nervous awkwardness that they were relatively new. Most had never seen their Lord, he could feel their wonder, ecstasy and fear despite their covered faces.

Spells were aimed at the dimmed houses in the residential street and they took turns entering the premises and staying outside. Windows and doors exploded outwards, and people poured out into the street in an attempt to escape as they were woken from their sleep as the screams started. From one end of the street he could see a group of witches and wizards approaching, a mixture of professionals and amateurs.

"Aurors, my Lord. Decided they wanted to join the action." It was with pure glee that Travers called out. They were woefully outnumbered.

His followers congregated again in the street to meet their opposition, a few errant spells hitting the muggles that were scattering around them. He stood behind them, pleased as they ran forward together, their fear vanquished by the surrounding chaos.

They met in a clash of spell fire, it was obvious a number of their opposition were witches and wizards that had merely picked up their wands and it didn't take long for even the freshest recruits to take them out. He recognised a few of the aurors that had appeared, there were very few of them and he couldn't be sure if they just happened to live locally or had been signalled.

Voldemort strode forward, his followers dividing to allow him past as they continued their fight. He could sense their awe as he walked among them and by the time he reached the front of the group, his enemies had spotted him. They seemed to shrink back and at least four or five of them disapparated on the spot.

With a slash of his wand, a dark miasmas burst forth from his wand, pulsing and swirling into the form of a large snake. It sprung toward the group of upstarts, the men falling back warily. It enshrouded the first few of them, horrifying screams broke forth before they shrivelled up dead. When their comrades saw the effect of the spell, they fled instantly.

His own followers struck out at the fleeing wizards as they celebrated, stunned by the powerful, dark magic they had witnessed. With the thrill of a win, they stormed the houses around them, most now empty.

The Dark Lord turned, about to disapparate to another of the settlements that were currently under siege when his heart jolted suddenly. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen Bellatrix, running along an alleyway behind the rows of houses.

He knew it could not be her, she would be sleeping back at the muggle house in Devon. He couldn't think of any reason why his eyes would deceive him. Without thinking about it, he chased down toward the back lane with the foreboding sense of walking into some sort of trap.

Slipping down the narrow alley, he reached a wide lane running between the back gardens of two rows of houses. Nearing the end, he spotted in the darkness two figures sneaking away in the shadows.

He whipped his wand, a rope bursting out, slithering along the uneven stone ground at a rapid pace seeking out it's target. The clandestine couple didn't notice it until it wrapped around the leg of the smaller body. A woman's scream rang out and she toppled to the ground, dragged heavily across the ground. She fought wildly in an attempt to free herself, trying to grab at anything to stop her being pulled toward him.

The Dark Lord advanced toward her as she was finally stopped at his feet. Her shirt had ridden up and he could see the skin on her flank was red and abraded from being dragged across the stone. She turned over, wand raised to try and free herself. As soon as their eyes met, they both froze.

He had to blink for a moment, his mind whirred as he assured himself that it was not playing tricks on him. It was not Bellatrix, as he had initially believed but the similarity was so close it disturbed him. The same strong, feminine facial features and curve of her mouth, tantalising and dangerous, he recognised them well. Her colouring was slightly different, even noticed in the half dark and the way her curls had been styled helped distinguish her. He knew the woman on the ground was Bella's sister, Andromeda.

"No, please."

She seemed to realise who he was and the danger she was in. He summoned her wand straight from her hand but was reluctant to immobilise or kill her just yet. Movement caught his eye and he raised a shield to stop the spell aimed at him by her companion. He could see it was a man now, he had come closer whilst Voldemort had been staring at the woman on the ground and it had become apparent that he was holding a small child in his arms.

Without a second thought he threw a killing curse towards them, only a little annoyed when it missed.

"Oh God, please no. Ted, you have to get out of here now, take her and get to your parents before anyone else reaches them, please. Go now!"

Andromeda screamed at him from the ground, regretful of the words she was saying. Perhaps understanding that it was only really herself that he was interested in. With a mournful look, he seemed to understand that she wanted the child kept safe and so he reluctantly started to back away before turning and running down the lane at full pelt, somehow managing to avoid the second half-hearted killing curse sent after them.

Tears had started to fall from Andromeda's eyes but she didn't seem to notice as she watched him. It disorientated him to see how similar her movements and mannerisms were to her sister. There was something missing though. He couldn't put his finger on it but despite the physical similarities he knew they were quite different. This was not Bellatrix in front of him, this was only a pale imitation. A maddening thought of taking her, of having two of them flitted through his mind. Perhaps doing things to her that he was no longer willing to do to her sister, after all she would be disposable. Dangerous and absolutely preposterous ideas.

Doing something he knew he could never do to the real Bellatrix, he raised his wand at her.

"Oh please don't, please don't do this, please."

Her head was bowed, as if in prayer before him, as she begged. He knew it was for her daughter, the little girl that who disappeared.

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

The green spell hit her and she collapsed dead back on the ground. He had to still his beating heart for a moment, for even as he knew it wasn't her, his body betrayed him as he observed the corpse. She was certainly beautiful in her own right but it was just not the same at all.

Looking at the corpse, he wondered to himself how he would feel to see Bella like this. He didn't appreciate the strange feeling it left him with but he knew it was something he needed to get used to. It was the problem with developing any kind of fondness or familiarity with others when immortal. She would look just like this, still and cold, never to move or breathe again.

In fact, he considered in the back of his mind that her own mortality was not likely that far off. With the war and her proximity to him. His enemies suspected her and he was sure a number of his own followers would take great pleasure in harming her. It had never even crossed his mind what would become of her when he did eventually seize power.

He stayed there, watching her for a few seconds before glancing up and down the alleyway. No one else was there.

Voldemort apparated away again, arriving in another settlement. He walked down the middle of what had been the main road. The night was shattered by the light of ferocious fires around him, acrid smoking filling the air that was ringing with screams and shouts. His followers had spread out amongst the large town, invading homes and obliterating buildings.

He saw a man carrying an old frail man up ahead of him, trying to sneak between the old buildings to escape unseen. From nowhere the buildings beside them exploded outwards, the heavy concrete, glass and brick burying them.

His wand was held loosely in his hand as he admired the devastation. Every so often a spell would be aimed toward him, people somehow understanding he was the epicentre of it all.

Most of them were muggles, fleeing in a blind panic, not understanding anything. There were bloodied bodies already strewn around the main streets.

"Stop this madness, you bastard."

A young bearded man had come at him side-on, probably not long out of Hogwarts, his wand raised and spells blasting toward him.

" _Avada Kedavra_."

The green spell ripped through the other mans simple protective shield and he was thrown back dead.

This was what it was all about. The power thrumming through his veins at the commotion around him. The fear and mayhem as people ran for their lives. He lived for this, the chance to prove his immense magical superiority. To destroy those around him.

He felt alive for the first time in weeks. The dark mark was hovering in the sky in a number of strategic points, a terrifying omen that made the blood of his enemies run cold.

A few aurors had appeared earlier in the fight, he knew they had been spread thin across the country and they hadn't stood a chance. Their slaughtered bodies had been desecrated by his followers, he had no idea where they were now.

The darkness was starting to fade and he knew it wouldn't be long until the sun rose. The screams were becoming more erratic and infrequent. He assumed everyone who hadn't managed to escape was already dead.

He spotted Rabastan run out from a half collapsed house. He was covered in white dust and blood and two other masked followers followed him, likely some inexperienced new followers he was training.

"Time to go. There is nothing left."

Rab nodded in understanding, turning to round-up the rest of them. He knew a lot of his inner circle would carry on their rambunctious behaviour at one or other of their homes.

Voldemort disappeared on the spot. The acrid smoke from the last of the flickering flames left his nose as he appeared at his temporary home. The sea breeze was much more refreshing now as the sky was becoming increasingly light. It wouldn't be long until the birds were up singing.

He threw the front door open, the last embers were slowly cooling amongst the ashes in the fireplace, other than that the house was quiet.

The near silence didn't sit well with him, his nerves were on fire as blood thrummed through him. He felt powerful, though he was tired, he felt as though he could take on the world.

Sweeping into the kitchen, he spotted the texts and potion ingredients left on the table. He felt as though it was something he could work through, like killing had given him a certain clarity but the energy he had would never let him sit still enough to concentrate on such a project.

The sound of movement alarmed him for a moment and he headed back through the house to the stairs. He was half way up them when the door to Bella's room slowly creaked open and she stood there, wand raised anxiously.

She relaxed when she saw him.

"You shouldn't still be awake."

Bellatrix rubbed her eyes blearily as she responded. "Sorry Master. I was sleeping when something woke me, I wasn't sure what it was."

He could tell she was worried about intruders, about the Order finding her. It made him smile when he realised she actually considered him the safer option.

"It's fine, go back to sleep."

She hesitated a moment as her sleepy eyes took in his cloak. He knew he was covered in dust and smoke, fortunately the dark black material would not show up any blood.

He peeled it off as he waved her back into her room. With gentleness, she close her door again and he made his way to his own room. The blood soaked cloak was thrown into a corner of the room, forgotten now until Bella would come to clean it up in the morning. Voldemort found himself pacing around the room, glancing out as the dimness faded outside. He had too much energy, he felt he could hardly wait for the morning paper. He had asked for Avery to drop it off first thing, he couldn't wait to see the country's reaction to such devastation.

The dead face of Andromeda appeared in his mind's eye. It had been easy to kill her, disturbing to linger on but it pleased him that his ruthless streak remained. It was his greatest strength, his ability to act without conscience.

The similarity made him consider Bella again. About the way she had spoken to him whilst under the effect of the disastrous potion. Perhaps her distraction could serve a useful purpose for once.

Without even considering the consequences or reason, he went back out into the corridor and flung the door to the other bedroom open. Bellatrix was startled, jumping off her bed immediately to stand at attention.

"Master?"

She obviously thought something was wrong. Voldemort made straight towards her, grabbing her arms with force and jolting her. She moved to say something, her lips mouthing something that she never gave voice to. He merely stared down at her. The Dark Lord hadn't thought about what he was going to do. He hadn't thought about anything, if he had he would have seen the danger ahead.

Her gaze burned into him, matching his own in intensity. Her hair was loose for once, framing her pale face in the dim light and he had to take a thick swallow when he saw her tongue slide along her bottom lip.

On pure impulse, he lunged toward her, his lips pressing firmly against her own. She tensed immediately in response, he had to wrap an arm around her to prevent her from stepping back. It seemed to take a few moments but he could sense her finally relax. Her mouth opened a fraction and he took the opportunity to taste her.

Voldemort couldn't help the groan that escaped him as his tongue swiped against hers and he pulled her body flush against his own, held in place by a hand at the small of her back. She tasted divine, better than he could have imagined and with the feel of her body against his own, his arousal was insatiable.

Despite his hold on her, Bellatrix managed to break free with a hard shove, stepping just back from his grasp. He stared at her for a moment, both of them breathing heavily as he admired the maddened gleam in her eyes. He knew she had enjoyed it, that she was fighting against some internal beast as she wiped her mouth shakily with the back of her hand.

It was a bad idea. Even then, he knew this to be true but with his latest conquests and successes bolstering him, it was very hard to deny himself the only reward he wanted.

Almost instantly, they moved back together, drawn like magnets. His hand twisted in her hair as he held on, feeling as though he was drowning in her. He wanted to devour her, to savour her.

His hands explored her narrow frame, one gliding down to the hem of her nightdress, stroking the warm silky skin of her thigh below it. She shivered in his arms and he could feel her agitation and arousal. Half of him was still waiting for her to run away, it would have been the best thing for both of them but he wouldn't have been able to stand for her rejection. She felt like a skittish rabbit in his arms, wanting to bolt at any minute.

Attempting to prevent this, he ground himself into her, burying his face into her neck and biting into her supple skin without breaking it. Her arms wrapped around him, drawing him closer as she stretched her head back, giving him access to her neck to nibble on the skin. He knew he couldn't bear it any longer, his frustration had been building steadily over the weeks and was unstoppable now, it had become almost painful to deny himself this pleasure any further.

With no warning, he threw her down onto the bed beside them like a hungry animal so that she landed face down. Bellatrix didn't have time to catch herself but as soon as she was down, she tried to scramble up and away from him.

"Bella, stop."

She was shaking and disturbed despite her own arousal. He pulled her calf to pull her back down flat and as he climbed onto the bed to loom over her, she fought like a scared animal, an elbow hitting back and nearly knocking the wind out of him as it hit him in the stomach. He caressed the back of her neck and shoulders, the pads of his fingers trailing down her spine in an attempt to relax her. There was little patience he had left for it but the small touches continued before he impatiently dragged her nightdress over her hips.

She gave a shaken exhalation as he slowly traced his fingers up her trembling thighs. Though she was tense, Bellatrix moaned throatily as his hand reach between her legs, she shifted them open slightly to accommodate him and he groaned himself for the dampness that he found.

Voldemort couldn't wait any longer, he had spent far too long showing self-restraint, this was it now. By taking her, he would assure that she would no longer distract him, he would sate his desire as he deserved. He bore down on her, pressing his forehead against the side of her face as he yanked his trousers open.

Sensing this, Bellatrix spoke up below him in breathy voice. "Wait."

He was agonisingly hard, as soon as he was free he pressed himself to her, thrusting with little forgiveness, ignoring her completely. Bella gave a sharp inhale as he entered her but he barely heard it. She was so tight, every inch a struggle, it was all he could think to just thrust himself again and again into her divine heat. Unaware of what he was really doing, he grasped her wrists, pressing them into the bed below them possessively.

All of a sudden, he was aware of her slowly moving just slightly below him, pushing against him creating the most beautiful friction. It was too much for him, a sensory overload as he continued to pump into her. He could hear her muttering things under her breath, he had no idea what she was saying as his own groans of pleasure peaked.

The rhythm was completely lost as he gave two or three further thrusts, slamming into her before he exploded, his climax crashing into him as shockwaves seemed to pulse through his body. Rather embarrassingly he was vaguely aware of groaning out her name, close enough to her ear that she couldn't fail to hear him.

Slowly, on shaking limbs, he pulled himself up and off her. His heart was thundering in his chest as he fumbled with his trousers, turning away from her half-naked body. Even as the pleasure faded, he couldn't decide if he regretted it or not. He despised the fact that she had seen him so out of control, so unhinged and animalistic in his desire for her but he hoped that at least now he had curbed his lust. Voldemort knew in his heart that he had been wrong to feel he deserved a reward. Such indulgence to temptation was lazy and was a well-worn path down toward bloated pride and insignificance.

He should never have given into her charms so easily.

Voldemort glanced back toward the bed. Bellatrix had rolled over, watching him with hazy eyes, her legs still lay slightly open and she had already pulled her dress back down. Her skin was flushed, he could see the faintest sheen of sweat and her curls had lost all control. She was a sight, looking half drunk. He could tell she was still highly aroused and he had to swallow thickly as he reminded himself why he needed to leave.

Without a further glance, he stormed from the room.

* * *

Voldemort felt groggy when he woke, the day outside seemed overly bright and it took him a few minutes to become oriented. With a feeling like ice dropping down his spine, he remembered the events from the night before. The raids and carnage followed by his fall to carnal temptation. The merest thought of the softness of Bella's skin and the feel of being inside her had him frustrated and aroused and he tried his hardest to push the thoughts to the back of his mind.

Today was important for him, the outcome of which would determine the real success of the raids last night. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

Voldemort considered the way it had been left with Bellatrix. He wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing her again, he was annoyed with himself that he had allowed her to see him with such a lack of self-control. There had been no talk afterwards and he would have preferred to have it forgotten completely. The only sure thing was that she was very unlikely to bring it up herself.

A very small part of him also regretted that she had not really reached any kind of completion. Of course, only his own satisfaction of truly mattered but for the small matter of his pride he wished he had perhaps lingered longer. The thought had popped into his head, an image of Bella bringing herself pleasure to her own climax. He had to pushed it immediately from his thoughts, the scintillating idea making his blood roar.

He threw on some clothes and with some measure of trepidation, he made his way down the stairs. He could already hear cupboards opening and closing and cutlery being moved around, much too loudly to be natural. When he stepped into the kitchen, he spotted Avery sat at the table, a large spread of breakfast laid out.

Bellatrix was standing by the counter, her back to the room. She didn't turn when he entered the room. At least Avery stood to attention, looking rather worse for wear. The Dark Lord knew he probably hadn't actually slept since the events last night.

"My Lord, I brought you the paper as requested, I am sure you will be most pleased."

His eyes skimmed the headline, smirking to himself, he was sure it would make for pleasurable reading.

"Any casualties from our side?"

Avery picked at a bowl of grapes that had been set out, popping one into his mouth. "A few of the new trainee's, one of the Rowle's, a few of the werewolves. I haven't yet heard of any other deaths although it's all still a bit hectic. I'm sure there were a couple of arrests but again we are still checking out anybody who is missing. It will take a little time but I should be able to give you a more accurate update this evening. From the snippets of things I've heard from the ministry, it is anarchy over there."

Voldemort sniffed, understanding the delay but not willing give any positive response. Avery glanced at Bella as she threw down a pot of coffee onto the table, not looking at either of them.

He watched her for a minute as she moved back to the sink, cleaning up a few of the dishes that had been left. She seemed angry about something, he wondered if anything had happened whilst she was alone with Avery, if she had read the newspaper.

"You can go, let me know of any updates and tell Lucius to prepare himself."

Avery nodded, making his own way to the fireplace in the next room. The Dark Lord stayed where he was watching Bellatrix, waiting for her to acknowledge him in some way. When it became obvious she was deliberately evading him, he turned his attention instead to the newspaper.

**_Midnight Massacre: At least 6,205 dead_ **

_Rita Skeeter_

_After a harrowing night of attacks launched by You-know-who and his followers, officials report at least 6,205 people have been killed. This figure includes both magical and muggle civilians in a vicious assault that started around midnight last night. The dark masked wizards struck at least twenty-three locations across mainland Britain including Salisbury, Canterbury, Gainsborough, Uttoxeter, Ruthin, Ellington and Comrie. Further locations have yet to be officially confirmed but include small villages across the country._

_The devastation of the attack was increased exponentially by the tactic of spreading across the country outside the main cities. Already citizens of effected areas are questioning the poor response of the aurors, with such low numbers trained they were spread thinly across the regions, unable to respond adequately to the threat and had no appropriate response plan to a threat outside the major cities._

_One resident from Salisbury reported that the local people had picked up their wands in attempt to stop the enemy who were using dark and unforgivable curses against defenceless and non-magical people. Worse were reports of attacks from other dark creatures including savage werewolves and terrifying inferi._

_Minister Crouch has yet to give a statement on this harrowing night of wanton destruction in which the death count is expected to rise. One has to question the ability of a minister who claims to be tough on the spread of this darkness but had inadequately prepared defences, poorly trained and outnumbered aurors and no intelligence to suggest such an assault. This attack coming the day after Minister Crouch's main opponent was assassinated in his own home, a coincidence that leaves the public with a leader out of his depth and with no challenger._

_An official working in the office of the Undersecretary states that there have been at least nine arrests related to the events of last night and a number of people are under close observation. All this comes too late for the many scores of men, women and children that lost their lives last night._

_There is no doubt the currently administration is under a lot of scrutiny in relation to their response to this disaster and goes a way to show the cowardly and sadistic measures the followers of You-know-who will descend to fulfil their goals._

_Further information of the confirmed dead and the reported missing on page 3. A look into Crouch's new government on page 5. Practical guide to defence against inferi on page 10._

The Dark Lord folded the newspaper over as the picture of the dark mark shimmered as it hung above the smouldering ashes of buildings, he was not so interested in the reports of their victims. He had seen it all with his own eyes. He chucked it down in front of him onto the table. He knew there would be a further scathing article about him inside the newspaper.

Though he had essentially taken over the Daily prophet, he allowed a number of writers continue, one of whom included Rita Skeeter. He knew enough about her to keep her in her position. Though she wrote out against him, her vicious, gossip filled columns usually worked to his advantage. The fact she still clearly opposed parts of his plans only legitimised her in the eyes of the public. For now she would keep her office, as long as her articles worked toward his own agenda.

When Voldemort looked up, he realised Bellatrix had left the room, he hadn't noticed whilst he had been absorbed in his reading.

Though her attitude irked him, he ignored it to consider the article in the Prophet. Though not as strong as it could have been, he knew it was only the beginning. As the shock of the attack settles, the anger will rise up in its place. This anger would not be directed toward himself, no for him they will reserve only fear. This rage will be directed toward those who had been unable to protect him, toward those who had never predicted such a ferocious assault in the smaller regions of the country.

It will take no time for the ministry to crumble now, he had asked his own men at the Prophet to print something about the next best hope for new minister, if he flicked through the pages he knew he would find it. One of these names would be Malfoy, along with a glowing character report.

Abandoning these thoughts, he left the rest of the food and went off in search of Bellatrix. It took him a bit of time to locate her, he was sure she would be hiding out in her room and was surprised to find it empty. He noticed that the bed was neatly made, the sheets changed since last night he was sure.

A scraping noise got his attention and looking out the window, he found her. She was using a trowel to scrap the weeds from the path outside. He rarely saw her out in the light, it was a lovely day and the sun made her pale skin glow.

Climbing back downstairs, it didn't take him long to join her.

She paused momentarily in her task when she felt his shadow over her but continued without looking up at him.

Voldemort felt uncomfortable as he stood there. He had little idea on how to address the awkwardness he felt. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up the events of the night before, it was bad enough, the way his stomach seemed to clench every time he remembered the smallest detail of their activities.

Her impertinence was infuriating though, he wasn't sure how to address it. Not while he wasn't sure what was the cause of such a change in attitude. He thought on her agitation the night before, perhaps this was all related to her deteriorating mental state.

"Why aren't you using your wand?"

She had stuck it through her knotted hair, he realised she had no holster in which to keep it. The muggles were unlikely to have anything suitable.

"I like using my hands, it takes longer but it is more calming this way, to keep the hands occupied and the mind focused."

She said all this without turning her attention from her task. He vaguely thought back to when he had visited her home, of the plants he had seen growing there. Apparently it was a skill she possessed.

He wanted her to look at him, he hated this near silent resistance in her. To command it though, he felt it would show some kind of weakness, reveal too much.

Instead he sent a stinging hex at her, it hit her on her outstretched hand and she snapped around immediately, clasping her hand with the other close to her chest.

There was a fire in her eyes, he could see anger burning there, along with a myriad of other emotions.

The sound of the crashing of the waves nearby and the overhead seagulls were the only sounds for a few moments as they stared at each other. It was tense and uncomfortable, making Voldemort almost wish he could go back to the way it had been. He needed to reestablish the pecking order, needed to break this new spirit to get back to how it had been. Despite their recent intimacy, they seemed further apart then ever. 

"I did not give you permission to be out here. There is enough work inside for you to be doing. I will not be living here for long, I don't care if it becomes overgrown."

She almost seemed as if she wanted to argue with him, to say something further but she at least had enough sense left to restrain herself.

"You need to remember who you serve."

"How could I forget, Master." There was the smallest hint of mocking and on reflex he grabbed the knot of her hair tightly. It was unlikely to hurt very much but made the threat clear.

"You forget your place Bellatrix. You have no friends, you have no family. You belong to me now and you will do as I say. You are mine to do with as I please. Last night was simply an opportunity to relieve some tension, you were merely a part of it due to your proximity, do you understand? This does not make you special, it makes you convenient."

This did nothing to temper her mood but the words were enough to reassure himself. He released her and she caught herself on her hands with a hiss.

"Yes Master, I understand this and that it will never happen again."

She climbed to her feet, brushing off the bits of grass and moss that had stuck to her clothes. Giving him a perfunctory nod of the head, she turned and made her way into the house. Leaving him even more confused than before he had come out.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Dolohov stepped into the dimly lit kitchen. It was very early morning and Voldemort hadn't bothered opening up the curtains yet to let the little light there was outside in.

"The Prophet, as requested my Lord."

The man looked tired, he clearly wasn't used to such an early start. He handed it over and took a seat at the table when indicated.

"Any updates?"

"Most of it's in the newspaper already along with a long list of casualties from our raids. The ones accounted for anyway. Makes for interesting reading. Headline news is they got Barty, there is a massive outcry now. Slughorn was arrested but it's merely a formality as they decide whether he had any involvement with you or not. There was already immense pressure on Crouch to step down, even his closest advisors and allies have been turning against him. He is still digging his heels, convinced he can turn everything around. He thinks now that the goblins have agreed to reopen Gringotts, that it will all be forgiven."

Voldemort sat up straighter at that statement. "He met with them already?"

The other man lounged back in his chair appearing very comfortable as he picked up a book that had been set on the table, flicking idly through the pages.

"Yeah, they met late yesterday evening as far as I know. Seemed to come to some settlement without meeting all the conditions they had been harping on about. Dumbledore was still sticking his neck in though, not sure what the outcome of it all was except that it's pretty much business as usual now."

He knew this news was unlikely to be good. Dumbledore had involved himself too much into the situation, it was more than just a pretence to care about equality among creatures. By now he certainly had the cup, if the goblins were opening it up, then it was gone.

"When you leave here, make sure you send a letter to the Malfoy's. They need to clear out their account, Lucius will understand this."

Chucking the book down on the table, Dolohov agreed. "Will do, my Lord."

"How is he fairing?"

"As popular as ever. With everything that's going on with Crouch, Malfoy has come to the fore. The positive article yesterday and the fact he doesn't come across as so severe and power hungry helps. His background already has the pureblood and some of the halfblood support and the fact he appears so stable in comparison now means he is really a forerunning for minister. It helps that Mitchum is out of the picture, he would have been the only real competition. Apart from those that are still questioning why Dumbledore doesn't run."

Voldemort frowned as the other man leaned back in the chair into it's back legs, the man had always lacked a sense of decorum.

"Should we start up some trouble?"

"No. Things will naturally take their course. If Crouch continues to cling onto his position, it will only make it easier to ease into power. His own people are turning on him and we will have very little to do with it."

This seemed a little over the head of Dolohov. "Right and then Malfoy is going to step in?"

"Yes."

The Dark Lord could tell there was a question niggling at his follower. Usually he wouldn't humour him so but he was feeling generous. "Ask whatever it is on your mind."

The chair came back down onto four legs with a thud. "I am just wondering my Lord, please excuse my ignorance but when we take control, do you not want to be minister?"

With a roll of his eyes, he answered. "No. I could've been minister myself, without any of this. At Hogwarts I had glowing recommendations, I had the old families and ministerial employee's offering me jobs. Within years I could have had the position for myself, legally. It's nothing though, an empty position with limited power and staggering culpability. Bureaucracy, responsibility and politics do not appeal to me."

"I understand, my Lord."

He doubted the other man did but he didn't want to labour the point.

"Anything else I need to know?"

"Nothing as of yet, my Lord."

"Then leave." He swept his hand toward the direction of the reception room and Dolohov did as commanded and left through the fireplace.

Voldemort left the newspaper where it was for the time being. He had already heard the most important pieces of information. It was a shame really that he had to set Barty up for arrest, although he had been planning it for a while, it was a pity given the younger man's keen enthusiasm and loyalty. As long as his father didn't do anything drastic such as sentencing him for a kiss, it could all be remedied. Once he had control of the government as well as the media, he could free all of his followers without concern.

Despite the early hour, he was a little annoyed Bellatrix wasn't awake yet. It was her responsibility to be up and have everything ready for him, no matter the time he chose to get up. He wasn't particularly hungry but that didn't mean she could neglect her duties.

His patience with her behaviour was waning very thin. She had spent the last day sulking. She barely acknowledged him except when it would be absolutely unacceptable not to, she seemed to avoid him as much as she could. He couldn't understand this profound change in her. He was sure it couldn't have all been because they had sex. He needed her to snap out of this mood she had worked herself into.

With determination he stood and made his way to the stairs, climbing them quietly. Her door was closed tight, only giving a light creak as he pushed it open.

He could see her quite clearly in her bed thanks to the half light coming through the closed curtains. For once she seemed peaceful as he watched her sleep, the blankets wrapped tightly around her.

"Bella."

She shuffled under the bedcovers but didn't wake.

"Bellatrix."

Her eyes blinked in confusion as they opened up. He came around the bed to perch against the radiator under the curtained window. It was cold, the weather had been warmer than usual and the fire hadn't been lit yet. He knew his silhouette was lit up for her by the early morning light outside.

She blinked again before her eyes seemed to focus on him.

Shimmying back in the bed a little, she moved further into the middle to create more distance between them. The covers were pulled to her a tighter, as if they could offer some protection.

Bellatrix said nothing, just stared at him.

"Are you still sulking then?"

Despite her tiredness, or perhaps because of it, she scowled deeply at him.

"I'm sick of seeing your moping face about the place."

She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a few moments, her jaw was tense almost as if she was gritting her teeth. She stayed like that for a few seconds before looking back over at him. He could practically see the thoughts buzzing around her head, the angry ones she barely stopped herself from uttering.

"I think part of the problem is that you haven't been given enough to do. In a house this size with only two people, there is very little maintenance. You need something else to occupy you or this sourness seeps in. Do you agree?"

"Hmm." She responded noncommittally as she sat up further on the bed.

"Get up, sort out breakfast then get dressed properly, yes?"

With an expression now tinged with concern, she nodded.

His eyes raked over once more before he realised there was nothing further for him to say and he stalked out of the room.

Jumping back down the stairs he returned to the breakfast table. He collected the newspaper, skimming the headlines as he vaguely heard Bella quietly joining him and pottering around the room.

Apparently a day of national mourning had been called, there was to be a huge recruitment drive with the Department of Magical Law enforcement and a more extensive list of the names of victims. He noted some familiar names on the list, including that of Andromeda Tonks. She was the only Tonks on the list so he assumed the other man, the little girl and the parents they had talked of had all escaped unharmed or at least alive. There were a number of pictures showing particularly poignant scenes of the remains of the destruction.

A plate of toast was slid underneath him and he folded the newspaper, carefully placing it to one side out of the way. A mug of coffee was also placed down and he noticed Bellatrix was hovering by the sink again.

"Sit down, you need breakfast as well."

She spun around, her eyes skimming over the food in concern. "I'm not hungry yet."

He slammed his hand down on the table, the cutlery clattered loudly. There was no way he was going to let her start this up again. The sullen attitude was enough, she had her time for resentment and now she needed to remember her place.

"Sit down. Now."

Scampering over to the chair opposite him, she took a seat and with great care started to scrape butter onto a piece of toast.

Satisfied, he tucked into his own breakfast. It wasn't the feast that she normally served up, as if sensing his disproval, Bella spoke up.

"The food in the cupboards is getting low, there wasn't much to work with."

She was nibbling on the corner of her slice of toast before setting it down in displeasure. Voldemort hadn't considered that they would stay in one place long enough to run out of food. If they needed more he would have to go to a muggle shop. The thought did nothing to improve his mood.

"I have much to be doing today but I had realised that I haven't given you any further guidance on your magical skills, in particular your duelling technique. The last teaching session ended rather abruptly and you certainly needed much more help. Some advice could allow you to improve independently and give you something else to do."

The hardened look on her face softened somewhat at the offer. He knew she was confused by this change in him. He need to keep things simple, he needed to get everything back to normal. He knew her boredom would never allow her to turn down the chance to do something other than cleaning, not that she had any choice.

He wasn't doing it simply for her benefit, he was rightly concerned that she was losing her skills. Like anything, if she was not using it or practicing, any talent she had would vanish and he needed her sharp. He concentrated efforts at keeping everything normal was an attempt to crack through the icy tension between them. He was trying his hardest not to lose patience and snap.

After picking through his own rather miserable meal, he stood. "Up, come on. Make sure you have your wand. You can clean up after when I'm out."

Slowly she followed him, out into the garden. It was brighter now, the early birds were singing noisily. He could tell it was going to be a beautiful day.

Bellatrix hovered by the door, watching as he transfigured a large stone into a makeshift rubber mannequin. He set it into the ground before bestowing a number of protective charms on it to strengthen it, making it far more difficult to destroy.

"Come here."

With obvious reluctance, she approached but ensured she kept a wide berth of him.

"I said come here." He pulled on her over sized jumper, dragging her toward him and ignored the way she bristled with his touch.

"Now I got a good idea of your abilities and knowledge of spell work previously. An important and often overlooked aspect of duelling is stamina. Physical and magical stamina."

He circled around her, her listlessness was not encouraging.

"Pull out your wand."

It appeared in her hand in a flash. He pointed toward the mannequin. "That is your enemy. It is not going to fight back, not yet anyway. Get into a duelling stance."

With a long suffering sigh, she took her position. It was sloppy to say the least.

"Not good enough, straighten up, square your shoulders."

Placing a hand on the small of her back, he pushed her shoulder to tilt her into facing the right way. To his surprise she shrugged his hand off.

"Don't touch me."

She spoke with acid on her tongue, he was not used to such vehemence from her. He pulled away from her slowly, not willing to do completely as she demanded. He would not be bossed around by her.

"Enough of that, or it will be me you'll be duelling against. Now attack, ensure it is a sustained attack. Don't try anything too advanced, best to stick with basic offensive spells."

Voldemort stepped back out of the way, to give himself a better view of everything and to ensure he didn't get in her way.

Without much prodding she started.

" _Stupify."_

She yelped in surprise when her spell bounced straight off the mannequin back towards her. She just managed to jump out of the way.

"Yes, so as I'm sure you have realised, your magic will deflect back. Continue, at least twenty in succession."

She threw him a disgruntled look before she started again. He knew he was doing the right thing when he saw how quickly she became fatigued. By the time she had reached twenty, she was panting for air. She was quick but couldn't keep up with herself.

"Come on, you can change it up now. Again and faster this time. This is not good enough."

Her reflexes were excellent but her aim became sloppier as she became obviously tired. She had started using some non verbal spells as well, the mannequin giving a loud bang and wobbling back and forth as some of the spells hit it.

"Maintain your stance. This is just the start, you have to imagine this was a real duel. You have somehow managed to get worse since the last time. Faster, come on."

Bella gave a shout in frustration as she threw more spells, her wand movements becoming increasingly extravagant. Voldemort was enjoying watching her. Despite her exhaustion, the way she moved remained graceful, although her posture not as refined as it should be. He could see the determination in her eyes, despite the fact her body was not quite as willing as the mind.

"Alternate spells, don't create a pattern the enemy can learn. Come on, keep it up and focus that lazy aim."

His words just seemed to aggravate her and she launched into a violent flurry of spells, as if keen to prove herself.

"Imagine this was your enemy, fight it like they are standing before you."

His eyes flicked from the mannequin back to her for just a moment as the rate of magic seemed to increase. He almost missed it when one of the numerous spells hit the mannequin and it exploded in a shower of fire. He almost jumped at the loud explosion it gave and as she stopped firing spells, he could see nothing of it left.

"It seems you have had enough then."

Bellatrix bowed over for a moment to try and catch her breath. The sun was becoming much brighter as it rose in the sky and he had to raise a hand to his eyes to stop the glare.

"Let's go back inside."

She trailed behind him and as soon as they were inside, she got a glass of water. He could see a sheen of sweat and her cheeks had become very flush. She was probably regretting wearing such a heavy jumper now.

"I think you have become lazy whilst you have been here. You could barely keep up pace. You should keep up practicing yourself, if we were to become caught up in a fight, you would be a liability to me and I would be forced to leave you behind."

He moved back to his seat, pleased when he saw some genuine worry at the prospect. She tensed under his scrutiny as he considered her for a few moments.

It was interesting to him, how despite her animosity toward him, she had wanted to impress him. She needed to prove herself and fulfil his commands. In fact it was a personality trait that he had never really considered before but he could understand how it developed and probably went a long way to explain her reluctance to join his forces.

"You like to please everyone don't you, you try to prove your worth. You think this is the only way people will like you?"

She opened her mouth to argue before snapping it shut, perhaps realising he was right. He could see she was wrestling with something inside. Though he usually enjoyed this inner turmoil in her, he was concerned as he knew it likely involved events that he was just not ready to be confronted with.

"It shouldn't matter if people like you, that's not important. Respect, even fear is what you should seek."

Voldemort turned away from her then. "Go upstairs, clean up then do whatever work you have to do."

Bella did as commanded immediately, obviously keen to be out of his company as soon as possible. He thought she had disappeared when her voice caught his attention.

"There is nothing wrong with being liked, or wanting to be liked."

Before he could respond, she had vanished out of the room for good. He wanted to argue with her, he wanted to make her understand that he was right. But he knew when to give things up as futile and he had bigger issues with his servant than this.

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort walked into the reception room, it was dimly lit by the light of the roaring fire. The weather outside was becoming warmer but at night a chill remained and he had to admit that the fire was a pleasant comfort.

He had spent most of the rest of the day out and hadn't spoken to Bellatrix since their impromptu training session. She ignored his entrance but it didn't quite feel so much like she was deliberately being obtuse. She was sat on the ground, leaning back against the armchair in front of the blazing fire.

She was scrawling intently into what look like the notebook he had given her at Christmas time. He hadn't seen it since then and he was surprised she still had it.

Her eyes flicked over toward him above whatever she was doing before going back to ignoring him. Deciding that he could have a moment for himself before he pulled out the heavy books again for his research on the potion, he sat in the other armchair facing the fire.

It was rather peaceful, the crackling from the wood burning in the fireplace and the soft scratching from the pencil Bella was writing with. He glanced sideways at the notebook again, wondering why he had given it to her. Though he supposed it was nice she had something to do, it irked him that she had a place where she put her own thoughts. For some reason that did not sit right with him, as if he should be privy to all her ideas.

He could have sat like that for most of the night, in fact he was sure he would have dozed off had it not been for an incessant tapping that started.

Both of them froze, looking at each other in confusion. Realising that it was coming from the window, he jumped up in alarm. Outside was a large tawny owl incessantly tapping on the glass. Despite his warning to his followers, he wasn't angry but alarmed. For someone to disobey his direct order meant something was seriously wrong.

Opening the window, the owl squawked and flapped into the room before settling on the top of the armchair, holding out it's leg. He grabbed it inpatiently, the bird having enough sense not to hang around and wait for a treat. It took off back out the window and into the night.

He didn't recognise the messy writing and it took him a moment to discern the words.

_My Lord,_

_They have found you. I overheard Dumbledore in Snape's office, they know you are in Devon. They were heading to an Order meeting and then planning to raid a number of likely locations. It seemed probable that they know where you are and I doubt it will be very long until they assemble, especially by the time this message has reached you._

_Wormtail_

Frowning at the message, it took a moment for it to sink in. As soon as he registered what it meant, he threw the scrunched up note into the fire. He cursed himself for having lingered unnecessarily in one place, he had become too comfortable.

"Get up. We need to leave now. You literally have one minute to pack up everything you need. One minute and we are leaving, whether you are ready or not."

"W-what?" She stood up slowly without the urgency he had expected.

"We need to go right now. The Order is on their way. They will kill you if we take too long. Make sure you get the bag."

Despite the urgency, she still seemed puzzled although she did move toward the stairs. He headed straight for kitchen and with a sweep of his wand summoned all the books and half attempted potions he had lying around. He headed up the stairs himself, there was nothing of value in his own room except the bag which he knew Bellatrix would have.

Instead he headed straight to her room. She was hovering around the bag which had been sat on the bed, putting random things into it. She lacked the urgency he expected as she seemed to aimlessly toss things into the bag. It was as if she was under water, her movements slow.

Voldemort flicked his wand and the books and potions flew smoothly into the bag.

"It's the Order that's coming?"

He paused in confusion for a moment. "Yes, Dumbledore and his rebels."

Thoughtfully, she picked up the bag and threw it over her shoulder. "They know where we are?"

Ignoring her question, he responded. "I hope you have everything, we are leaving now."

He started to make his way across the room to grab her for side along apparition when a blast shuddered through the entire house. He could sense wards encapsulating around them. He hadn't put any of his own up, only protections to stop detection by muggles and aversion spells. He was sure any more extensive magic would have only drawn unwanted attention.

Bella had been knocked to ground by the force of the bombardment and the entire wall through to the stairs was cracked and buckling.

Another explosion hit the building, there was a crash and he was sure the old muggle building was collapsing. Fine dust filled the air. He had to get to the floo network, he didn't want to fight the order whilst they were so outnumbered.

"We need to get to the floo, to Malfoy manor."

Though he shouted it, he wasn't entirely sure she could hear over the commotion. Her eyes flitted around before she climbed to her feet unsteadily.

"What are you doing Bella?"

She ignored him as she sprinted toward the door and he suddenly understood exactly what her intentions were. A spike of terror ran through him as he tried to convince himself she wasn't that stupid.

"Bellatrix, don't do anything stupid."

As if she didn't hear him, she continued toward the door. With a spell he knocked her face forward onto the floor which ominously cracked underneath them. The windows shattered as he watched her try to crawl towards the door.

"What are you doing? They will kill you if they get half a chance, they are not your friends."

He managed to grab her ankle as she struggled against him. "I don't care. I don't care what they do."

She seemed intent on fighting against him, of going to them. At this point he genuinely wasn't sure what they would do to her if they saw her but they would know the information she harboured would be invaluable.

"You will when they torture you to death."

At that moment the wall behind them exploded, covering them in debris. With a vice like grip on her ankle, he tried clambering to his feet. Outside he could see two people on broomsticks aiming their wands towards them.

"Hey, they're here!"

He recognised one of them to be Frank Longbottom, the man kept turning up everywhere. The woman with him started firing off curses which he easily deflected. Realising they were behind them, Bella tried to clamber over him to the enemy. It didn't seem to phase her at all that there were hexes flying towards her.

Somehow he managed to stand them both up, grasping her around the waist to stop her escape as he defended them. It was essential that they got away now before he was faced with all of them. He countered their curses, sending a few of his own back. The woman was too slow to dodge his spells, it was clear she was an amateur with regards to flying. Her broom splintered underneath her and she dropped out of the sky.

Bella struggled fiercely and he simply stupefied her, holding her weight to him. There was no way he could let her get away. With his focus split, a stray slicing curse broke through his defences, cutting deeply along his thigh.

With a scream he launched a powerful curse, a whirlwind of high energy magic blasted out and obscuring his vision of the other wizard.

He knew they would know exactly where he was now and took the few seconds reprieve he had to lift Bella, ensuring she still had the bag and ran into his bedroom. The room was half rumble, the ceiling had completely disintegrated but fortunately the fireplace was still intact.

Grabbing a fist full of powder he threw it and jumped in. He had never travelled with someone else before and it was very disorientating. Fortunately they landed out in a heap in a room he recognised. He had enough foresight to ensure the fireplace would be destroyed by their travel, the Order would not be able to trace them.

"My Lord?"

He climbed to his feet, straightening up as he faced Lucius Malfoy. He glanced at the unconscious and filthy Bellatrix at his feet as he struggled to contain his fury.

"We will be staying for a few days. Ready my chambers."

Though undoubtedly confused, Lucius nodded somehow sensing now was not the time for questions. "I will let Narcissa and the elves know. You are most welcome my Lord, please make yourself comfortable."

His eyes drifted down towards the small puddle of blood that had grown under the Dark Lord's leg. Testament to his diplomatic skills, he said nothing and left the pair of them to gather themselves up.

Voldemort watched her for a few moments. He could not believe the way she had behaved, he had not expected such disloyalty and to willing put herself in harms way was preposterous. He would have to wake her but he was still unsure what he wanted to do with her.

Part of him considered throwing her down in the dungeons as a punishment, though a small part of him felt this would be a punishment for himself as well. Undoubtedly he would torture her, he would have to make it clear he would never let her go, that he wouldn't accept any attempt to escape.

With a sigh, he collected the bag, turning when he heard someone approaching.

"My Lord, welcome back. I wanted to let you know that your suite is ready for you, we keep it ready specifically for you." Narcissa Malfoy kept her eyes firmly on his chest, he knew she had seen the blood and Bella's unconscious body on the ground yet she managed to avoid comment. She was wearing a long, neat black dress, it appeared too formal to wear around the house and he half wondered if he had ruined whatever engagement she had.

"Good."

"Would you care for anything to eat? Or anything else I can help you with?"

He shook his head, when Bella was awake and dependent on the condition he decided to leave her in, she could sort out everything for him.

His host left him to it and he levitated Bellatrix up, walking them up to his chambers. It was exactly as it had been the last time, the small cot in the main room left for Bella and his own master room adjoining.

He dumped her unceremoniously on the floor, trying to calm his breathing as he debated what to do with her. The panic he felt at her attempt to abandon him was frightening and he knew it wasn't all entirely related to the information she had.

Taking a deep breath he flicked his wand. "Renervate."

She gasped as she woke, sitting up as she looked around taking in her bearings. When she realised where she was and the events that had happened, she shrunk back a bit.

"What exactly do you think you were doing back there?"

"I…I…" She trailed off, obviously nothing she could come up with would simmer down his rage.

"Do you have any idea what you were doing?" He rubbed his forehead in frustration as he tried to make something he thought was obvious, clear to her. "Those people were not there to save you, they were not there to help you in anyway. They were there to kill me and to kill you. If you were lucky. If you weren't and they caught you alive, they would torture you. You know that the government has just legalised the use of unforgivable curses on suspected death eaters? Then if you survived all that, they would stick you in Azkaban to rot."

She visibly shuddered at the idea.

"What on earth were you thinking running into spell fire, they were shooting to kill."

Her eyes were twinkling with unshed tears as she shouted back at him. Her voice sounded constricted as if her throat has seized up. "I don't care, I don't care if they were going to kill me. I can't stay, I can't bear it."

It was not at all what he wanted to hear. Voldemort could not understand where this near suicidal intent had come from. "I will give you a taste of what they would have done to you, if you had your way. Perhaps it will make you think twice.  _Crucio._ "

The room rang with the sound of her high pitched screaming, it only lasted a couple of seconds before even the sheer effort of that seemed too much whilst she endured such pain.

He held it for a brief second, only enough time for her to catch a breath before he started again. She writhed around on the floor, ripping at her clothes, her skin and her hair as if there was some stimulus she herself could removed to halt the agony.

The tortured woman was panting for air by the time he stopped. Her eyes where glazed as she tried to come around from the pain and he could see aftershocks rippling through her body.

As he took a break, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now, he was struck down himself. A terrible deep ripping pain struck him, tearing deep in his chest through to his back. The almost familiar horrible feeling was now only a distant pain, something like the pain he imagined amputated limbs developing. The hollow, empty feeling left behind caused him to stumble back and collapse onto her small bed.

He grasped onto his chest for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. Fortunately Bellatrix was still on the ground, only starting to come around.

So another horcrux was gone, they hadn't managed to catch him themselves so they had destroyed a piece of his soul instead.

A spike of panic ran through him suddenly and he summoned his bag towards him.

" _Accio_  diadem."

Despite everything, he managed to relax as the ancient tiara flew out of the bag and he caught it in his hand. It was a small mercy that it was a horcurx he already knew to be lost that was destroyed. The cup was gone now, his only protection between immortality and death was the diadem and his failed attempts at a potion.

Bellatrix coughed lightly as she managed to sit herself up. Turning the diadem over in his hands, he knew he would have to face whatever was going on with Bella at some point but now that she was safe, it could wait.

"Stay here, make sure everything is in order."

She coughed again before pointing to his leg. "You're hurt."

Voldemort had forgotten about that. His robes were covered in congealed blood and he ripped them open further with his wand to heal the wound. It oozed sticky blood and even as it closed over with his healing magic, the pain shot down his leg.

He hissed lightly, wishing he had waited until he wasn't under her curious gaze before he had done that. With a huff he left her alone on the floor while he went in search of Malfoy.

 

* * *

 

 

"I must say, for once I am not filled with disappointed revulsion at the sight of you. Sit down." He waved a hand to the armchair opposite him, the first time he was sure he had ever offered Peter Pettigrew a seat.

The scruffy, weasel of a man gladly accepted the offer. He was of course anxious but he held himself better, no doubt the warning he had sent left him with a sense of security.

"Despite your good work contacting me with eminent details of Dumbledore's intent to attack, I am disappointed it came so late and how little other information you have been able to give me. You are in the heart of it yet you have given me so little."

Wormtail squirmed for a moment under his Lord's intense glare.

"Tell me what you have learnt."

Clearing his throat uncomfortably he launched into it. "It has been difficult. I have not been able to gain access to Dumbledore's office which is inevitably where most seems to be going on. I have caught snippets of things in Snape's and McGonagall's office. They were shaken by the attack, it was unexpected. They have been increasing their recruitment drive, the outrage has gained them a few new people but the fear is halting there progress. I learned that Dumbledore predicted you were in Devon given the deaths of the Flamel's. He seemed to have pinpointed you down to an exact location more or less."

The other man paused for a moment at the look that passed across Voldemort's face.

"They have talked about a stone and a cup."

"What exactly have they said?"

Wormtail frowned as he tried to remember everything he had heard. "Something about how the stone couldn't be used. That it has come sort of fail safe that couldn't possibly be used by you. The cup, I remember Dumbledore telling Severus that it was a token. That they got it off the goblins and it would be destroyed as soon as they learned all they could from it."

"Go on."

"Well there's not much more than that. Dumbledore has mentioned a few times about coordinating an attack but there doesn't seem to be any proper plans. He has said he is waiting for the right time otherwise it will be futile."

"Hmm." Though it was little to go off, it let the Dark Lord understand just how much Albus had surmised. "What about Severus?"

"Well he is unsurprisingly boring to watch. Spends most of his time alone, working on potions and his classes. Though he talks to his colleagues, it seems mostly superficial. He also spends a lot of time in Dumbledore's office. It seems the headmaster really trusts him, they make plans together."

"He has a way of ingratiating himself to people. His intelligence and usefulness make people want to trust him."

Pettrigrew looked around the large parlour warily, ensuring there was no one else around. "I've heard them talk about Bellatrix Black as well."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. Though he was immensely interested to hear what his enemies were saying, he was careful not to reveal too much in his reaction.

"I don't understand all the things they say. They have said she is valuable, very valuable and that by now she must have a greater knowledge than even Snape. Dumbledore has suggested that she is not as valuable to them as she is to you. That there are things her presence can help you accomplish. Dumbledore has suggested informing the rest of them to kill her if they get the chance, that the sacrifice of one would be be better than the slaughter of many. Severus has managed to persuade him to hold off on this for now."

That was very interesting. Obviously Dumbledore had figured something out that he had yet to grasp. The fact that the old man was willing to consider killing her made it even more important that he kept her away from them. That he kept her safe, especially from herself. It frustrated him that Dumbledore had learnt something about her that he was yet to understand, that he viewed her as an aide to Voldemort's power. The only thing he could imagine it relating to was the Stone but his pragmatic side taught him to consider other options.

Looking up at his spy at last, he spoke with clear threat. "Nothing of what you learn is to be shared with anyone else. Go back to the school, learn anything you can. Keep trying to gain access to Dumbledore's office but whatever you do, do not be found out."

Pettigrew stood nervously, hesitant as if he wasn't sure he wanted to go back. He headed for the fireplace and vanished. Voldemort knew he would come out somewhere near Hogsmeade where he could travel in his animagus form back to the school.

Immediately the Dark Lord left the darkening room and headed to his own suite within the manor. The revelations from Wormtail's visit made him more determined to fix things with Bellatrix. It was obvious her mind was cracking, no one in their right mind would choose to run into danger, into a certain death. He needed to fix her but he had no idea where to start. He was much more suited to destroying people than putting them back together.

The rest of the manor was quiet, the Malfoy's were likely hiding somewhere else within their home. He pushed open the door to his chambers.

Bellatrix was sat on her small bed in the main living area, the same place she was to sleep the last time they stayed. Only she hadn't slept there, he had moved her to his bed.

She looked up at him, the expression of contempt and fear had returned. He realised his attempt to bring a sense of normalcy had failed miserably. Perhaps he would be better suited to tackling the situation head on. He had never shied away when it came to conflict, it seemed that this unfamiliar situation needed the same tact.

So instead of glossing over things, he took a seat next to her on her bed, leaning back against the wall as she had been doing. She moved, perhaps worried about his intentions, to sit on top of her pillow and lean against the other wall facing him.

Her eyes followed him suspiciously as she tried to determine what he was doing.

"What on earth made you do that back there?"

Bellatrix shrugged as she picked at the lace pillow cover.

"I have had enough of the silent sulking. If nothing is said, nothing can be fixed. If you don't take your chance to say something, then I expect you to pull yourself together."

She was incensed by his words, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You… you want me to…" The words seemed to catch in her throat. "How can I say anything? I- I don't know how anymore. Everything inside me is fighting against itself, like there's this complete dissonance, it doesn't make any sense."

Her mouth opened and closed for a few moments as she struggled to find any words. "I have nothing to say. I don't know what you want. How to say anything. It's all just sitting here," she rubbed her chest for a moment. "All of it, this vitriol, a bitter acid just eating away at me from the inside. It wants to come out but … I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

She burst into tears at that, surprising Voldemort. The emotions in her seemed to be fighting each other, veering from anger to sadness rapidly. He had a sense that she had an understanding of her fragile mental state and that it had taken her so much just to open up that meagre amount. He could almost sympathise, it was a terrifying idea to realise you were losing yourself, losing your control.

At a loss for what to do, he ran his hand through her soft hair for a moment. "Shh."

Dumbledore's ideas ran through his mind again and he resisted the urge to lash out at her. For a short time he could show her the mercy needed. "There are ways, I can teach you, to get release. To let things out."

Sniffling as she tried to dampen down her reaction, she didn't take on his offer. She was rightly wary and the little pride she had left would not allow her to accept help from him.

"It's late. Get some sleep, think on what you have done today, the foolishness of your actions."

He stood then to let her climb under the covers. He felt so far from her now, it was hard to believe the events of only a few nights ago. For a second he felt a spike of dread as he considered what her reaction would be when she found out he had killed her sister. Deciding he would face that situation when it arose, he left her to it, going to his own room to plan his next move.

 


	26. Chapter 26

 

 

 

When Voldemort entered the dining room, both Malfoy’s were already at the table. They stood promptly at his entrance and he only indicated for them to return to their seats once he was sitting comfortably. 

A rather grand spread had been set out, he knew it was a similar amount to their usual breakfast, more than two people could ever eat. Despite the fact it had been prepared by house elves, he still tucked into the eggs in front of him. He had left his own servant sleeping in the room, reluctant to wake her as he continued to consider everything that had been discussed between them. 

When he left the suite, Bellatrix had been reclining on the small cot in the annex room adjoined to his own. Her soft rhythmic breathing indicated she was still in deep sleep. He had watched her for a short moment, it had reminded him of the last time he watched her sleeping whilst staying in this manor, only she had been in his own bed that time. 

He would ensure she was up by the time he returned but for now she was best out of the way. 

“I have the copy of the Prophet my Lord, if you wish to read it?”

Lucius had folded it over, ready to give away. He didn’t want to read it at the moment but took it anyway, setting it beside his plate. Instead he watched his hosts, there seemed to be some unexplained tension in the air. More than he usually experienced as a guest.

Lucius was dressed in his usual ludicrously expensive robes, a silver inlaid navy thing this time. Voldemort had to admit, he certainly looked the part of the next minister of magic. Opposite him was his wife, well kept as usual in her long black gown with lace sleeving. 

“I will be returning to the ministry this afternoon for a meeting my Lord. Is there anything you require me to do whilst I am there? Narcissa will still be here all day if you need anything in the manor.”

There was a stiffness about the way he spoke, Voldemort didn’t have any care to consider this further.

“See if you can find out anything about Barty Jr, where he is being held and if there are any plans regarding his punishment. Make sure not to draw any suspicion to yourself, I would rather not know then have you fall foul to some rumours.”

“I understand, my Lord.”

Lucius stood and excused himself from the table leaving his wife alone. Narcissa seemed much more apprehensive than the last time he had stayed. 

Less patient than was even typical for him, he decided to find the cause immediately himself. Without much consideration, he slipped into her mind. Her fear was strong, related he was sure to the recent raids that had taken place. The fear wasn’t just toward the Dark Lord, he felt fear she had regarding her husbands involvement. She believed in his cause, always supported pureblood elitism but she was keen to keep the brutality at a distance. There was a flicker of a thought of Bella that whipped through her mind, so fast he didn’t grasp it. He withdrew, watched her visibly flinches his presence left. 

“I assume you have a potion store here? A work room?”

Perhaps just grateful that he hadn’t commented on what he had found, she answered enthusiastically if not sincerely. 

“Yes my Lord. The store room is a part of the potions room, ground floor in the east wing, before you reach the entrance to the orangerie. I don’t think it’s been used since Snape was last here.”

She frowned as she realised what she had said but he ignored it, standing instead. “I require the use of the room, whilst I’m here I do not want anyone else using it.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Voldemort left her to clean up. When he returned to his room, Bellatrix was at least awake. She had dressed and seemed to be in the process of unpacking the bag. There were clothes and books spread around her and she was delicately examining the diadem. 

“What are you doing?”

She jumped at his voice, so absorbed in whatever she had been doing that she hadn’t heard his approach. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she seemed to struggle with her answer, before giving up with a question of her own.

“This is a horcrux, isn’t it?”

She had set it down on the thick carpet in front of her and was watching him with curiosity. Taken aback by this, his response was to neither deny nor accept. 

“What makes you think that?”

Her finger glossed over the large blue opal before she withdrew quickly as she came to her senses. “I was thinking about the fact you have horcruxes, when I came across this while unpacking I remembered how it was the only thing you rescued when the Order came to your home. I know it belonged to Ravenclaw but it still seemed more important to you than a historical artefact.” 

Pushing back the locks of hair back over her shoulder, she pressed on with more trepidation. “It’s more than that though. That would be enough to convince me but when I touch it.” She shuddered impressively now. “When I’m near it, it feels dark. Darker even than any of the horrible cursed items kept pride of place in Black Manor. It almost has a feeling of being alive, not just animated with magic but living.” 

It took a moment for her to pull back her typical self-restraint. “Maybe I just think that because I think I know what it is. The fact I have convinced myself that it is a horcrux means I think I have sensed these things.”

He was stunned for a moment by her perceptiveness. Though her revelations were of huge concern, he couldn't fault the way she has come to her conclusion. The fact that the only thing, other than Bellatrix herself, that he bothered to salvage that night of the raid was the diadem, ensured everyone present would realise it was of huge significance to him. 

He did not like how easily she seemed to deduce these things, that she was in fact correct. Not too long ago he would have considered killing her over such knowledge. Were she not so fully isolated and under his control, he still would consider it even now. 

“How do you know anything about what a horcrux is?”

“I… I came across it once as a child. Well a teenager I think.”

“You came across it? You’re going to have to expand on that a bit I think.”

She didn't seem too keen to have to explain herself for some reason. “When I was a child, father was very keen that all three of us were very widely read. Education was very important to him although he had very little time to be involved himself. He didn't think Hogwart’s did enough, it left out large swathes of topics and didn't encourage very much independent study. So instead he would set us his own assignments. Once a week we had to present to him on a Friday, sometimes another day if he was very busy. Each week we would read something, usually he would give us some guidance on topics but not always. If we wanted we could read more around the area, as long as we finished at least one book on the subject. For instance, Narcissa particularly focused on genealogy when she was given the chance. Despite the repetitiveness, father was pleased with her apparent pride in the family background. I knew it was just because most of those books repeated the same information and were usually much shorter than other texts.”

Realising she needed to get to the point soon, she sped up. “Once, I decided to choose to read more about a dark wizard, the darkest wizard, back then. Herpo the foul. Really, I think I only chose the book because of the intriguing cover. The actual book itself was rather more contextual and due to the poor record keeping and long history, very little seemed to have much detail. There was however mention that he was the only wizard to have ever made a horcrux. Of course when I read the term, I decided to do more research. Despite some of the grim tomes in the family library, any mention of it was very superficial but I gathered a good general idea of what it was at least.”

“And what did your father say when you presented all this to him?”

“I avoided mentioning anything related to the horcrux. It scared me, so I didn't much want to talk about it and I knew, for some reason that he would disprove of me reading into such things. The Black family was fascinated by and celebrated the dark arts but there were things even they would turn away from. I mean the simple idea even of it, is quite grotesque really.”

She obviously hadn't meant to say that last bit to him, when she realised what had slipped out, she looked terrified about being punished. He didn't especially feel the need to, he would have preferred for her to be impressed and awed by his power but he knew that almost nobody could fully appreciate what he had achieved. It is why the dark arts were so unexplored, so abhorred. Only he had been fearless, and powerful enough to yield such magic. 

He picked up the diadem that had been left on the floor before her. He could feel the magic thrumming beneath his fingertips and wondered what it was like for someone else to handle his horcrux. He recognised it as self, his soul called out to its own but surely no one else could sense that. 

“Keep it in the bag.” 

He handed the diadem back over to her, he would not acknowledge whether she was right or not. It was better to leave her in uncertainty. 

Bella took it off him anyway, returning it to the proper place and looked up at him expectantly. 

As he stared down on her, he wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. “If everything is sorted out here, you can go amuse yourself. I’m sure there is a library you could occupy some time in, or set up some of the stuff in the potion room.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the offer. He never let her have free time, any time she had was only after completing chores and he never gave suggestions of things to do. 

“Uh, thank you.”

He hadn’t really meant to say it in such a way, he really had just wanted to make sure her time was occupied. Listlessness and inactivity seemed to have such a detrimental effect on her but he didn’t want her to think he was going soft or to consider that she could start taking liberties. It made him want to take something away from her but there would be enough time later for that. 

“Perhaps start with some mending skills, your clothes are beginning to become ratty and ill fitting. You would do well to take care of them as I hardly believe your sister will feel like lending you any.” 

He pinched at the loose shoulder of her dress, the stitches clearly become worn. He supposed they had served her well consider how long she had made use of them in such different environments. Taking the opportunity he squeezed her shoulder firmly before releasing her.

She slowly gathered everything up and he left her to it. He knew she would only go exploring when he wasn't around to make demands of her. 

 

* * *

 

 

Rabastan strolled back into the parlour with his glass of fire whiskey in hand, sitting in the armchair closest to Lucius. The small group of them had gathered in the large room, the few armchairs and sofas pulled close to the fire, the rest of the expansive room cloaked in darkness. 

Voldemort was closest to the fireplace on the edge of the semicircle, half facing away from them. The rest of the party was made up of Rabastan, Avery, Lucius and Narcissa. It was still early enough in the evening that she was sat with them, although the three men had become rather inebriated. 

“And then he suggested to me that muggleborns should be given privileged earlier introduction to Hogwart’s as an induction to the magical world, to help them catch up with the head start that actual magical children have. Can you believe that? As if a couple of weeks can make up for genuine magical blood, it is such a laugh.”

“It is a bloody outrage really, they are not content with stealing our children’s magic or even their education. Now they are pressing for further advantages, to be allowed into the school before our children. If they had their way, soon our sons and daughters will have to fight to even get an education. The situation has become desperate since Dumbledore took over. If he had any sense he would retired and get away from everything, keep himself to himself.”

Rabastan drunkenly laughed away at such nonsense, Lucius joining in with as much enthusiasm. Narcissa gave a soft chuckle which seemed to draw the attention of her slightly inebriated husband. 

“Their demands for respect are becoming as bad as those blood traitors. You know what I mean?” He gave a sly look toward his wife. “Narcissa knows what I mean. She thinks I don’t know why she has taken to wearing black at the moment. Did you see her blood traitor sister was killed in the last raids, good riddance.”

Voldemort glanced around the room for a moment, concerned for a brief second that Bellatrix may have heard the comment before remembering she was up in his suite. He had become used to her almost constant companionship these days. 

Narcissa stared down at her wine glass for a few moments, two red blotches appearing on her cheeks. The atmosphere became tense for a minute before Rabastan gave an out of place raucous laugh, seemingly at nothing. Narcissa took her chance to excuse herself, an icy glare briefly sent toward her inebriated husband at the mention of her dead, disowned sister. He knew she had been completely humiliated by her drunken husbands insinuations , especially in front of his close friends and their Lord. 

Voldemort stood as well, the three men falling silent at this. 

“Do not spend all night drinking yourselves silly, you still have things to do for me. Especially you Lucius, a lot is at stake for you. Disappoint me tomorrow and the consequences will be dire.”

They all murmured their respectful responses. “Of course, yes my Lord.”

By the time he had left the room and reached the end of the darkened corridor he could hear their laughing again, although more subdued at least. 

He did not mind his followers bonding and relaxing at times, it generally encouraged social cohesiveness but they needed to fit for purpose. Although it was as much to their benefit, if Malfoy failed him, Voldemort would have no problem replacing him with another follower to step into the politically powerful position. 

Wandering through the house he made his way back to his own suite. He just about resisted heading back towards the potions room. With the destruction of all but one of his horcrux, he was becoming increasingly agitated with his lack of progress regarding the potions. Despite this, he knew that his worst mistakes were always made at such late hours and he had already spent most of the day tucked away there and was still no further forward. 

As he made his way down the hall the light seeped under the doorway from his suite. He was pleased that Bellatrix was still awake and waiting for him. 

She was sat up on her bed, the room warmed by the slumbering embers in the fireplace. It was obvious she had been scrawling in her notebook again as it lay open on her lap. 

“Master."

It was spoken merely as a greeting but he barely grunted in response. Perhaps believing that she had done something to displease him, she set her notebook to one side and sat up straighter. 

She was wearing a long black nightdress, he had never seen it before and couldn’t be sure if she had magically altered her previous gown or somehow gotten hold of a new one. The dark colour suited her very well, her pale skin almost luminous in contrast. Perhaps she had heeded his advice regarding garment spells. 

Turning away from her, he headed for his own bedroom pulling off his robes and changing into something more comfortable. He knew he should just head straight to bed, he had enough to keep himself busy the next day, including returning to his work and attempting any kind of breakthrough on his potion. Instead he went back to the main suite where he could hear Bella’s pencil lightly scratching away. 

He stopped before her small bed, frowning at the notebook. 

“What are you writing about?”

She paused in surprise. “Uhh, just-” She seemed reluctant to give an honest answer. “Just some things that have happened, memories I don't want to forget.”

This didn't sound like something he would approve of. He yanked the notebook out of her hands, surprised when she jumped up as well, following after him as he walked across the room skimming through a number of small excerpts. Her writing was scrawled and difficult to read but he could understand enough. 

_Regulus came to me in hysterical panic, he was only about seven years old, with two broken halves of a broomstick in his hands. He had been bawling his eyes out, terrified about his families reaction to his destruction of Sirius’ new broomstick. I never found out how exactly he had managed to damage it to such an extent, there wasn’t even a scratch on him. He was so relieved when I took the blame, the punishment was worth it to make sure he did not have to face the wrath of Walburga._

He couldn’t decipher the rest of the page so flipped onto another one. 

_It was early Spring, Andy and Narcissa weren't feeling very well and were stuck in their beds. Druella was busy looking after them and father was not busy with work for once. He took me out to walk around the extensive manor grounds. He showed me the magical plants he could recognise although he had never been much good at herbology. He taught me the importance of knowing about plants magical properties for using in potions. That was the when he promised to show me how to hunt, I didn’t believe he really would ever show me but he did. It was really more of an introduction really but to promised things to come. Although I felt guilty, I was so happy that my sisters were sick because father was not around that much and I never got to spend any time alone with him. It was nice to do something with someone who wasn’t wishing I would just disappear._

Further down the page was another entry. 

_It was my birthday, I think it must have been my twelfth. It was a quiet party with a few family members. I remember Reggie was particularly shy that day, more than usual. He had always been quite shy around that age, it could be pretty endearing. I didn't really think too much of it, at first I thought it was because all of the family together or that he was just in a sulk that day. Just after the cake, he started tugging on the ridiculously frilly dress I was wearing. I was annoyed that he wanted to take me away from the party, it was the only day that everyone turned up for me, even if some people tried to tone down the celebration. He was still really shy, which was surprising as he was never usually like that with me, especially not when we were alone. He pulled out a small snow globe. It was really badly made, with water and glitter slowly leaking out the sides but it was obvious he had made it himself. He was clearly very chuffed with his efforts and it was probably the best gift that year, the only one I remember anyway._

He slowly looked up from the notebook. Bellatrix stared at him, he knew she was embarrassed and yet angry at the same time. Once she would never have been able to hold his gaze in such a way, how easily things seemed to have changed. 

“What is this?”

She brushed her hair back over her shoulders, squaring them in an attempt to exude some kind of confidence although her meek voice betrayed her. 

“I wanted to write down things to remember.”

This confused him, he couldn’t imagine that she was having problems with her memory. “I don’t understand, why are you doing this?”

She wrapped her arm across herself self-consciously as she responded. “I just, I wanted to remember them. As I start to think these things about you, I have to make myself remember the things you have done. The things and people you have taken away.” 

Her voice was thick with emotion as she explained. Even upset as she was, he thought she looked rather beautiful in the half light from the low embers. He wanted to touch her again but when he looked down at the notebook still clutched in his hand, he realised she would never really be his. Not whilst she was still able to cling onto the past in such a tangible way. 

Her eyes widened as she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. 

“No.”

Ignoring her, he moved to the fireplace, throwing the notebook in. Immediately the corners of the pages curled and browned. She made to move for it but he pushed her back, he wouldn’t risk her doing something as stupid as reaching into the fire to retrieve it.

Realising it was gone, she sat back on her bed, she looked heartbroken. He didn't really understand this, he knew he didn't relate to people the same way others did but this seemed too much. Both men were dead, she would remember some things about them but it was futile. She would have nothing to do with them again. It was as though she did not understand they were dead and gone. 

“Why would you do that? I wasn’t hurting anyone.” 

He stood there unsure for a few moments before deciding to sit on the bed close to her. She didn’t jump back away from him as she had started to do, perhaps too upset to care about his proximity.

He reached out to brush her silky hair lightly which forced her to looked up at him with her tear-filled eyes. 

“You have to forget the past, that will only cause you more pain.”

It was partly true but he also recognised that he could never have all of her if half of her was with the past. She nodded blindly, he wasn't sure she particularly agreed with him but when he reached out to grasp her to him, she didn’t object. 

With trepidation, she rested her chin lightly on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, the other aimlessly stroking down her side along the silky material of her night gown. 

He wanted her again, with more force than he would previously believed. He thought he sated this feeling but that was obviously not the case.

Keeping a hand resting around her waist, he pulled back, distracting himself. She leaned back away from him now and he lost his grip on her, wondering as he watched her, what exactly about her made Dumbledore so worried about her. That made Dumbledore believe she was so important to him. 

She seemed to want to lean in for a moment, her face lingered close as he felt she was contemplating closing the growing gap between them but with a quick flash her eyes darted toward the last of the burning embers of her notebook. That made her decision and she sat back, shifting up the bed away from him.

This delicate balance with her sent him on edge, he hated constantly teetering this line instead of pushing with what he wanted. He always got what he wanted but it was particularly frustrating and slow process. His blood thrummed as he debated reaching for her, grabbing her. In the end, he managed to reign in control and stood. 

“It is no way to live, to be consumed by the past.”

“Our memories are what make us.”

He didn't really know what to say to her soft response. He felt as though she was trying to suggest something more than what the simple words meant. 

______________________________________________

 

“Finally we have done it, my Lord. Barty Crouch has been ousted. He has disappeared off now to lick his wounds, meanwhile there is a power vacuum. I am currently sitting in as temporary Minister.”

Lucius puffed out his chest as he finished his sentence, his wife proudly hovering nearby. They were both dressed regally, smarter even then their usual formal attire. Narcissa was still wearing dark colours but had broken it up at last with slivers of brighter tones. 

“And?”

At this, the blonde man deflated ever so subtly. “Well there has been a little more opposition than I had expected. I think Dumbledore must have been stirring up trouble in the background. Prewett, that old codger of all people, pushed a motion that there would be a formal election in six weeks, that someone unelected couldn’t just step into the role. Everyone else is far too worried about the government being destabilised to care about that but he got backing from Walter Bones.”

This was unexpected. Voldemort hadn’t been anticipating such resistance, especially not from the much older and more old fashioned wizards. In fact both men were probably a few years past their retirement ages. Undoubtedly, Dumbledore was involved. No one else could have prompted two men so stuck in their ways to throw a spanner in his works. 

“What does this mean then?”

“It means another election unless we can find some way around it. The two men have been approaching others to get them to come around to their way of thinking. If there is an election, I am not exactly sure who would be running. Another candidate would have to step forward, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the old fools stepped up themselves.”

He had to put a stop to this. Though it may be some farfetched plan to simply delay the inevitable, he needed to act while he had the advantage. By delaying things he would allow that meddlesome old fool to further interfere. 

No, he needed to sort this mess out himself. 

“Prewett, he has a few children right?”

Malfoy nodded as he seemed to think. “Yes, two men. Fabian and Gideon I believe, and a girl. She’s married to a Weasley. I’ve heard they are all keen supporters of Dumbledore.”

“Hmm, I think we need to make them realise why it is not a good idea to stand in opposition.”

This seemed to reassure Lucius who clearly didn't like the idea that his victory was not certain. 

“Have Dolohov and Avery track them down. They are not to attack, I would rather lead an offensive. Rabastan can hunt down Bones.”

At that moment they were interrupted as the door opened and Bellatrix stepped into the room. She paused for a moment, looking determinedly only in his direction before moving across the room. The atmosphere was icy, their hosts glaring at her as she crossed. For her part, she didn't cower from them, in fact she seemed to ignore them entirely.

“My Lord, this note was just delivered for you by owl. I thought you would want it immediately.”

He took the sealed note from her, glancing surreptitiously at the handwriting on the outside before slipping it into his robes. He nodded in acknowledgement, he wouldn’t thank her in front of his followers.

Instead he stood, a hand on her back to nudge her toward the door. The Malfoy’s watched in confusion as they left the room rather abruptly. He wanted to read the note in privacy and it was better to send Bella back to their room. He had taken care to try and keep their hosts separate from her, or at least to always keep an eye on them when they were together. At least until he figured out exactly what Dumbledore had been thinking. 

As they left, he pointed her toward the stairs and directing them to their room. She went without question, standing in the middle of the room, looking lost by the time they reached his destination. 

He pulled out the note, quickly reading through it before scrunching it up. Running his hand across his face, he tried to calm his anger. It seemed to him every time something half successful happened, something else went wrong. 

“Master?”

Spinning around, Voldemort considered her. It almost seemed as if she were debating offering him some sort of condolence or sympathy. 

“Why is it everyone keeps disappointing me?”

Bella looked a bit lost at the question, anxious about his clipped tone.

“No matter their promises. Even you.”

“I-I…” Her throat bobbed nervously as she sensed she was in dangerous territory. 

He stepped toward her, close enough to reach out and stroke her cheek. “I know you have learnt your lesson now.”

She trembled beneath his fingers. “Yes, Master.”

Voldemort hoped that was true. 

He gave a slow exhale as she seemed to lean into his fingers, although he wasn't sure it was intentional as her eyes had flickered half closed. 

Catching herself, they snapped back open and she shuffled back away from him. Like everything he was determined to have, it just seemed to keep falling through his fingers. It was frustrating to no end, but he knew he would get his way eventually. 

“Get into bed.”

Startled by his order, she glanced around almost desperately as if looking for something to distract him with. Without explanation he went through to his own bedroom. He would have to play his cards carefully, he would not force her.

Moving to his desk he scratched out a response to the note he had received. It was messy written but he didn't care. He folded it over and set it to one side on his desk, it could wait until morning. Instead he changed himself ready for bed. 

Instead of slipping into his own very large bed, he slipped through into the main room. He could hear Bella shuffle in the dark under the covers in bed.

Almost blindly he made his way toward the small cot. When he reached it, he pulled back the corner of the covers. 

“Move over.”

With more hesitance than usual, she finally relented and gave him some space. Climbing in beside her was rather tight, they ended up lying side by side, arm pressed against arm. It felt incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Like this.”

He nudged her until she turned onto her side and he pressed himself behind her, draping an arm loosely over her waist. Almost subconsciously he pressed his nose to her, inhaling the tantalising smell of her skin and hair. 

She hummed a little, although he could feel she hadn’t relaxed at all. 

“Shh, just go to sleep.”

He wanted her to be reassured. He wanted her. to ravish her completely but he was willing to make sure she was comfortable. 

As he relaxed into her warm, soft body, his eyes drifted shut and he slowly drifted off. 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

The Dark Lord walked straight towards the crooked old pub. A wooden sign, _The Black Griffin,_ was swinging in the light breeze. The surrounding streets were empty, most people avoided being out when it started to get dark, especially in such dangerous times but the pub before him spilled light and noise onto the gloomy street. 

He threw the swinging door open, it crashed into the wall loudly and the group inside silenced immediately. It was not as busy as would be expected in peaceful times but it was a reasonable crowd. As soon as they saw him, more than half of them disapparated on the spot. A few ran screaming to for the floo, nearly fighting over the powder to disappear away. 

His targets, as predicted, along with a handful of others ran for cover. Their wands were out, and it did not take long for the spells to start firing. 

He deflected a couple as the doorframe behind him exploded in a shower of splinters. He sent a killing curse immediately toward the mousy woman closest to him, she didn’t stand a chance and was thrown back dead. 

This did nothing to stall the volley of curses sent toward him. There was a reason the Prewett’s had survived the war for so long, they were skilled wizards and their shared experience with the Order had honed their practice. 

The table one of them was behind disintegrated into ashes and the young man was forced to clamber over the bar. As he dived, the bar man helped drag him over but was caught in the throat by a slicing curse. 

He clutched desperately at the blood gushing from the wound but collapsed after only seconds. Seeing this, another person apparated away and it was only the twins and another young man left.

“Lay down your wands and I will show mercy.”

He said this even as he deflected their powerful spells. The pub crackled with spells ricocheting off the furniture and old oak panelling. 

“As if, we will fight you until we die.”

It was the one behind the bar that said this, the brother that had grown out a beard. 

Voldemort flicked his wand violently and the third man was thrown backwards, his neck giving a sickening snap as he landed. 

The other brother hidden behind a stack of tables and chairs gave a scream as he launched spells at the Dark Lord. He had been splattered with blood from his friends but it was still clear the two were related. 

“You bastard.”

Voldemort stepped further into the pub, still managing to defend himself from their barrage. Once it became clear that there were only two of them left, that he was targeting the brothers, their savagery increased. They wanted to defend each other, it was a strength that had likely contributed to their longevity. 

Nevertheless, he swatted away the ferocious magic they sent at him until he was close enough. With a final slash he launched a blasting spell toward the table which exploded into dust and debris. The younger man seemed to be taken by surprise and had no time to react when the green killing curse hurtled toward him, he was dead instantly. 

There was a roar of anguish as the other had realised what had happened. Perhaps against better judgment he launched over the bar, scrambling toward him as he tried to bat away the strong but non lethal curses sent at him. 

“Don’t be foolish, I was planning on letting one of you go back.”

The red headed man sent a powerful curse that exploded as it hit a rapid protective shield, Voldemort still almost stumbled back from the force. 

“I would rather die than surrender to you!”

Realising that he was not going to get anywhere with the grief stricken man, he attacked. He caught him with a blast of the cruciatus curse, a brief second enough to incapacitate him. 

The younger man huffed as he tried to catch him breath, the grip on his wand slippy as he grasped it through the blood he was splattered with. 

“ _Avada Kedavra.”_

Voldemort shook his head as he looked down upon the slumped over man. He could never understand those who would choose to continue to flight despite a certain death, not when they have been given the option to live. 

Glancing around at the bloody carnage left, he launched fiendfyre to destroy everything. He stepped out of the old pub before it was filled with smoke and sent his dark mark high into the sky. 

It was a warning to his opponents that he was not to be trifled with.

As the flames blew towards the buildings connected to the old pub, he knew the aurors wouldn’t be long to arrive. He already achieved everything he came for. 

He vanished on the spot, arriving back at Malfoy manor. 

When he wandered through the manor towards the potions workshop. As he had expected to find, Bellatrix was sorting through dozens of glass tubs of ingredients. There were a number of small piles of herbs and unusual constituents sitting out on the work top waiting to be put away into storage. 

He had asked her to reorganise the store as it had become a mess with his various experiments. He had her replenish the stores and prepare some ingredients for a new concoction he was planning. 

In an ancient book he found in the Malfoy library, there had been mention of a life preserving potion. The details were rather sketchy but he felt there was enough there for him to make some modifications to use it for his purpose. It wasn't a certainty but it was the most promising thing he had found all week. It was surprising some of the gruesome, very dark things that were often hidden away in the old families homes. He had certainly been jealous of such resources and as younger man. Most purebloods had little interest in such things, it was an incredible waste.

He watched for a moment as Bellatrix meticulously counted the number of bat spleens in one of the jars, documenting carefully on a piece of paper. She jumped when he cleared his throat.

“Master.”

She stood from her crouched position and set the jar on the shelf. 

“Are you nearly finished?”

She looked down at the half a dozen jars lying placed around her feet. 

“It shouldn’t take me too long to be finished. Is there something else you want me to do?”

He rubbed his cheek subconsciously, feeling strangely stupid. 

“I want you to finish what you are doing.” He paused momentarily before continuing confidently, he refused to let her know how ill at ease he felt. “I wanted you to continue to spend time improving your skills. I have noticed that you have resorted to unusual methods of carrying your wand.”

Voldemort gestured toward her wand which was held in hair which had been half tied up. She tugged on a curl self consciously and he knew she was resisting taking the wand out. 

“It is not appropriate and not exactly practical if you were to be involved in a sudden fight.” Which he was aware had already happened on a number of occasions. 

He pulled out the wand holster from the inside of his robes. It was an intricately designed leather piece that could be used to store a wand to her arm or converted to be worn at the waist. It had been reasonably expensive but he was sure it was nothing more than anything she would have used even at school. 

Though it was slightly feminine looking, there was nothing particularly individual about it. He held it out for her.

Bellatrix stared at it for a few seconds in confusion taking it off him when she saw his impatience. She turned it over in her hands suspiciously admiring it. 

He didn’t want her to think to much about it, he didn’t even consider it a gift, merely a tool for convenience and safety. He didn't want her reading anything in to it but he also found himself wanting her to be happy with it. 

She seemed a little unsure about how she felt but eventually offered up a tentative response. “Umm, thank you.”

“You should keep it on you at all times so your wand is always on hand. As I’m sure you have realised we are constantly under threat.”

She nodded before attaching it to her forearm, pulling her wand from her thick locks and putting it in. When she pulled down her sleeve it was hidden completely. When she was done, she glanced down at the jars again, he knew she wasn't sure if she should go back to her original task. 

As he watched, he felt a distinct urge to be cruel to her. He wanted her to be more grateful but he was also glad that she hadn't made a big deal of it. He wanted to make sure that she didn't think she was held in any kind of esteem or that he was trying to earn favour but resisted the feeling of wanting to cause her harm. There would be other opportunity if necessary. 

“Finish up here.”

He waved a hand around the ingredients and she quickly continued her previous work.

 

* * *

 

 

“Fuck!”

He slammed down the potion he had almost completed as he realised it wouldn’t work. 

By now it had turned a sickly orange colour, if the unicorn hair had worked as he had expected when he added it the thin liquid should have been deep forest green. 

Grabbing the glass stirrer, he threw it against the wall were it exploded, shards scattering around the room. 

It was utterly infuriating. He was getting nowhere with the potion, the stone was practically worthless to him now. His attention was so divided at a crucial time that he was at the point where he was starting to consider abandoning the project. His own pride and his awareness of his own irrefutable intelligence where the only things stopping him at the moment. 

With a flick of his wand the potion was banished to a cupboard and locked away. He would go back to the library, he was determined that there would still be something of value there. 

Locking up the work shop, he stalked along the corridors, ignoring the stares from a few of the ancient Malfoy portraits. Once he had climbed the main staircase and headed down the dim hallway, he was stopped before he reached his destination by the sound of voices. 

He could tell they were just around the corner from him, their feminine voices clear to him despite their low tones. 

“Don’t you dare turn your back to me, not in my own home.” There was a sound of shuffling movement, he was expecting them to round the corner but the same voice spoke out again. 

“Wait.” This time the haughty facade broke, a hint of desperation evident. 

“What?”

It was undeniably Bellatrix, her tone rather clipped. Despite this, her sister continued on. Clearly whatever she wanted to discuss was important, he was certain she would never usually have tolerated such obvious disrespect, particularly not from someone she thought so far below her. 

He could almost imagine her puffing her chest out, straightening her back, her voice returning to it usual confident strength. 

“It has become rather obvious, for some reason or other that I do not even like to think on, you have attained some level of esteem in the eyes of the Dark Lord.”

She paused as if she had asked a question, silence hung in the air for a moment before she continued. “This is despite your… lineage, your beliefs.”

“My husband is on the cusp of real power. It is all he has ever deserved. He is in the Dark Lord’s good graces and fortunately the Dark Lord has realised the influence and potential my husband has.”

Her voice dropped further to barely a whisper, as if everything she had already said hadn't been incriminating enough. 

“These are dangerous times, friends are turning on each other, swathes of people being killed. Not everyone as deserving as perhaps believed. Even the Dark Lord has been known to turn on his own followers, everyone knows what happened to the Lestranges. It was not an isolated event.”

“There are things I can do for you, things I can provide for you in return. If you would only use whatever small amount of influence or favour you have to ensure my families safety. To ensure my husband can achieve what he is doing and is protected from our enemies.”

A heavy silence hung for a moment as even he couldn’t believe the gall of the younger woman. 

“I-I actually can’t believe this. You are asking for my help? After everything you are asking me to keep your ‘family’ safe. I was your family. I have spent months just trying to survive, all the while you have done nothing, nothing at all to help. I have no influence, I have no say, I have no voice. I do only what I can to ensure I live another day. I didn’t ask for any of this. I cannot believe the bare face cheek of you to dare even approach me with this, you think I would ever endanger myself trying to protect you from a situation you have made for yourselves, just so that you can have a bit more power.”

She out of breath by the time her tirade was ending. “God Cissy, you really have no clue do you?”

The other woman seemed to be at a loss for words. 

He decided to take the opportunity to interrupt, stepping around the corner. The two women were caught short, pale faced with guilty, terrified expressions. 

They stayed like that for a moment, it was obvious they knew that he heard everything. Narcissa was actually shaking, she was less used to real fear than Bella. 

“I think you should go.” 

She nodded briskly and half ran past him. He grabbed her arm and stopped her as she was about to pass. 

“I think perhaps you should change. This is hardly appropriate.” He looked her heavy black dress robes up and down. It was late spring and stuck out as out of place. “It would be a disgrace if somehow people mistook this for mourning wear.”

His gaze pierced her for a moment and he knew she understood what he was insinuating. He did not want Bellatrix to become suspicious regarding the dark clothing. 

Releasing her, she practically ran around the corner. 

Voldemort eyed Bella for a moment. Her stance was defensive, her jaw tense and he knew she was indignant at the idea that she was in trouble for someone else’s actions. 

He didn't appreciate Narcissa’s words, he didn't like that his followers were daring to think that Bella was in any way important to him. Not for the first time he considered that maybe he needed to move them away, somewhere private where there would be no negative influences on her, no one to judge and form inappropriate ideas. 

“You could get your own back you know, she wants to use you, manipulate you. She thinks she is better than you, you have the perfect ammunition.”

She knew he was talking about what he had relieved to her regarding her sisters paternity. 

When she responded it was with a quiet, subdued tone. “It would destroy her to know. It would destroy her marriage and ruin her life. They would stay together as it would be too controversial not to but it would wreck everything between them. She may be hateful but I could never be so cruel as to tell her.”

He gave a tsk in disappointment. “Such weakness. You have perfect leverage against someone who despises you yet you won’t use it to any advantage.”

“She doesn’t despise me.”

He opened his mouth to give a scathing response but was cut off by Lucius who rounded the corner, almost colliding with them. 

“Oh, my Lord.” The blonde man looked between them for a moment as if wondering if he had interrupted something. “Eh, I just wanted to let you know that Dolohov’s here, down in the front smaller dining room.”

“I will see him shortly.”

Understanding that he was being dismissed, Lucius left them alone in the hallway. 

“Go back to the room.”

She did as requested, likely just relieved she hadn't yet been punished. 

Voldemort made his way back down through the manor towards the front to a large dining room. Though expansive with a large crystal chandelier and long windows, it was often referred to as the small room, a testament to the grandeur his hosts lived amongst.

When he entered the room, Dolohov stood from his seat. His cloak was disheveled and caked with dried blood. 

“My Lord, a pleasure.”

“Sit Antonin.”

He gestured to the chair he had already been sat in, the younger man gratefully taking it. 

“You have been busy then?”

“The werewolves have been at it again. They slaughtered almost an entire village near Norfolk, made a right bloody mess. They need to be kept on a tight lease.”

Voldemort tapped on the wooden table for a moment. “They’re contribution is valuable, the fear and viciousness they bring is valuable. Let them have their fun for now, it won’t be long until I have them reined well back.”

“Yes my Lord.”

“You received my letter?”

“Yes. You were correct my Lord, apparently they have reached out to the Irish government. Told them they want to call a state of emergency, asking for a legion of their finest to provide backup for their own.”

It wasn’t ideal. He hated that all these plots were happening behind his back. The last thing he wanted to go was to start a war, not whilst he was still trying to consolidate his own power within Britain.

“Their desperately under prepared new recruits will need all the help they can get. Do we know who initiated contact?”

“No my Lord, we are not even sure if it has come from within the ministry. Perhaps Dumbledore…?”

Voldemort frowned. “I doubt it.”

A silence hung in the air for a moment.

“Any news from the French?”

“Yaxley and the others managed to intercept the envoy. Unfortunately they were killed so we have no idea from whom the message was sent.”

“Yet again, a successful task has become a failure for us. I am starting to find such heavy handedness rather tiresome.”

Dolohov opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something in defence of his comrades before seemingly thinking better of it. 

“And Barty, you mentioned something about him?”

“Apparently there are a number in the ministry looked for him to get the kiss. In fact, there are very strong rumours that it is his father advocating for it. As if my fixing this mistake he will be forgiven and can return to some position of power. It’s pretty fucked up.”

This did not surprise Voldemort to hear. It might be shocking to others but he well knew the cruel things that could pass between father and son, especially when it came to ambitions. 

“When is the trial?”

“It’s a closed trial. The date has not been officially announced but I believe it is in two days. If they decide to go for the dementors kiss, it will be done that day. They will not be leaving any time for an appeal.”

This was certainly not ideal. Whilst he had no problem sacrificing Barty to place his followers in positions of power, he had always planned for the young man to return to his service. It would be such a dreadful waste for him to be left in such a state. However his control hadn’t been solidified and attempting to rescue him from such a fate could prove challenging. It was a position he hated to be forced into and he needed to get a handle on it. 

“We need to find out exactly who has set all this up. You must find out if and when these extra troops are arriving and repel them. If we need to we can start talking about trade embargo’s and closing borders. That will get them a bit twitchy.”

“And the French, my Lord?”

He waved a hand dismissively, already boring of the conversation, he had other things to think on. 

“Let Rabastan take the lead with that, he has some good contacts over there.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Voldemort stood, his wooden chair scraping noisily against the stone ground. He left the room, Dolohov disappearing as he was obviously dismissed. 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort shuffled through the old pages absentmindedly as he watched Bellatrix pottering around the workshop, ducking in and out of the storeroom and clearing things away. 

He had returned to the potion but had made no progress at all. Voldemort prided himself on his tenacity, his self-discipline and ability to stick with difficult tasks but even this was testing his patience. 

Particularly when something so simple would solve his problem. 

He was certain that Bellatrix held the key. If only she had volunteered up her blood, he would have had his potion by now. 

She had disappeared off back into the storeroom. 

It was becoming clear to him that he had to broach the subject again. With a steeling breath he followed her into the storeroom. 

Bella jumped in alarm when she saw him behind her, blocking the exit. 

“Master?”

Nervously she twisted a jar of pickling fungus on the shelf beside her. 

“Come out here.”

He grabbed her wrist in a light grasp, pulling her out of the store room. As she passed he brushed his hand along her waist, frowning when he felt something in her dress pocket. 

She tensed nervously as she realised he had felt it and back away from him. He hadn’t released her yet and yanked on her arm hard to pull her closer. 

When he patted her hip to find the opening of the pocket, she tried to slap his hand away. 

Surprised by this, he batted her hand away and pulled out a long vial. He only knew what it was because of the peeling label, _ergot._

_“_ No, give it back.”

He was taken aback by her demand. He had literally no idea what sort of potion she could be trying to make with such a thing, who knew what other ingredients she had managed to snatch. He knew she was gifted with potions. A chill ran down his spine as he considered that perhaps she was attempting to incapacitate him in some way. 

With lightening reflexes she managed to grab the bottle back. He reacted without thinking, wrapping his hand around her wrist and squeezing it until she dropped it causing it to smash on the floor. 

“No, what have you done?’

She dropped to her knees, picking at the glass desperately as if she wanted to put it back together again. She was almost hysterical and he found it difficult to watch. It had been such a while since she had seemed to lose herself in such a way that it always hit him strangely when it happened again. 

“Get up.”

When she ignored him, he grabbed a handful of her thick curls and tugged. It was enough to draw her up to her feet although she was still staring down at the potion, her eyes watering. 

This was not how he had wanted it to happen. He felt compelled to punish her, for her to dare consider stealing from him, no matter the reason. 

But he still wanted something from her. 

Pulling on her wrist, he dragged her to a high stool at the work table. When she sat on it, he leaned over her, entrapping her as he rested his hands on the table on either side of her. He tried to establish eye contact but she was determinedly looking to the ground, guilty and ashamed. 

“I cannot express the disappointment I feel right now considering your behaviour. I can’t believe that you would ever dare to steal from me. It is a shocking betrayal of the trust I have given you. Such an infraction deserves severe punishment.”

He could see her throat bobbing as she swallowed in fear. With a smooth movement, he stroked a finger along her jaw, when he reached her chin he forced her face to toward him. 

“This can all be forgiven. If you give me a slip of your blood.”

Despite the very short distance between them, she tried to lean back away from him. A scowl had appeared on her face.

“I have already told you, I will never help you with that. I will not be trapped, I will not help you to live forever. It is not worth the number of people that will die at your hand if I do this. No matter how nice you pretend to be.”

He chuckled humourlessly. Though anticipated, he was raging at her response.

“Oh so you are trying to tell me this is all for _the greater good._ It’s funny you should believe such a thing.”

With a sharp flick of his wand, the pensieve that he knew was up in Malfoy’s office appeared beside them. He took his memory, the one with Pettigrew’s last visit and pointed at it. “Take a look why don’t you.”

She looked at it fearfully, rightly cautious regarding anything he would want to show her. 

Grabbing the back of her neck, he pushed her toward it. Slowly, accepting she had no choice, she dipped her head toward the pensieve. 

He let her watch the memory alone, to watch Peter telling him about Dumbeldore’s plan _. That the sacrifice of one would be better than the slaughter of many._ He made sure to edit it so she would not hear the suggestion that she may be valuable to him, that Dumbledore believed she could be a strength for him in any way. It would be dangerous to put such a thought into her head. 

She was pale and shaken when she resurfaced, her lips a thin line as she kept silent. 

“You understand? You are entirely expendable to them. They are willing to sacrifice you, you should not allow that to hold you back.”

She remained silent, her eyes barely moving as she slowly blinked as if in a daze. 

The Dark Lord could feel his frustration ratcheting up. When she failed to move, or even acknowledge him, he lashed out again. The back of his hand cracked against her face and she stumbled toward the counter.

“One simple thing you could do for me, after everything I have done for you, to keep you safe.”

She sniffled as she held onto the side of her face, still not looking at him. 

With an annoyed sigh, he moved toward her, gently patting her hair. 

“You do not need to suffer. Give me what I want and I will forgive all this.”

She seemed to consider this for a few minutes before she slowly shook her head. The decision seemed to weigh her down, as if she knew the suffering she would face for it. 

With a growl, he gave her a healthy shove. 

“Get out. I don't want to look at you now. You have gravely disappointed me.”

She didn’t take much encouragement and quietly retreated out of his sight. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was late by the time he returned to his suite. Bellatrix was in bed but clearly still awake, he could see her blinking in the low light. Her cheek was dark and he knew it had bruised deeply. 

He could heal it but he wouldn’t. She deserved more than this and it served as a useful reminder to anyone else who might see her, that she was first and foremost under his control. 

With a flick of his wand, the fireplace burnt into life, the rain outside had cooled the air. Once he had warmed himself he moved toward the small cot, sitting on the edge of it beside Bellatrix. She was squashed back against the wall, watching him warily. 

He reached out to her bruised cheek, stroking it gently for a moment before pressing down on it. She hissed, flinching back in pain. 

“I hope you have learnt your lesson.”

She just stared at him, knowing there was no right answer, silent anger radiating from her. 

“You know I don’t punish you for enjoyment.”

No, he couldn’t stand when she defied him. She was the only one that seemed to be able to give him what he wanted and yet she withheld it. Never mind the fact that she had dared to try to steal from him. The potions store may have belonged to the Malfoy’s but he was under no illusions that it meant little to Bellatrix. 

Voldemort wondered vaguely if she had taken anything else. He was certain she was attempting to make a potion of her own, for what purpose he could only guess. It was likely for something silly, he doubted she would ever consider something as stupid as poisoning him. Especially as she had access to all his food and had knowledge of his horcrux. She knew he was immortal.

Still he wouldn’t allow her to engage in these sorts of activities out of his control. 

Standing again he pulled out his wand. 

“Get up.”

Anxiously, she did as asked, shivering as her skin met the cool air. 

He ignored her as she stood next to him. With a flick of his wand, the bed was thrown across the room exploded into pieces. Bella screamed as she curled in on herself in an attempt to avoid the flying debris. 

Under the bed was her shoes, the pencils he had given her, her wand and holster and a book, a work of fiction by the look of it. If she were to hid something he would have expected it to be somewhere in or around her bed. Perhaps she wasn’t as simple as he expected. 

Glancing around the room, he knocked the books out of the shelf with a flick before ripping open the cushions of the two small sofas. 

It didn’t take him long at all to dismantle the entire room but he found no contraband. 

It looked a wreck by the time he was finished, the Malfoy’s would not be too pleased to see what had happened to their beautiful antique furnishings but he didn't care. 

Bellatrix was crying softly in fear as she had watched the destruction. 

When he caught his breath, he turned his attention to her. He thought on how unwell she had been, the paranoia he had seen in her and realised he was becoming equally afflicted. 

It was a terrible, terrifying thing. Even recognising it, he knew it would be impossible to appreciate the full extent of how it could affect the mind. He didn’t understand the aetiology of such things but he knew well the consequences of it. 

As he looked at her, he felt this strange immense pity. Of all things, it must be the most terrifying to lose your sense of reality, to be unable to trust your own mind.

She had seemed well enough recently, in fact the sharp, starved angular curves of her had softened on her feminine form as he was sure she was finally back to eating better but he knew it was all there. Just lurking underneath the surface of her. 

No, he decided rather decisively in his mind, the best thing for the both of them would be a move. For privacy and to get away from the treacherous and manipulative eyes of his followers. Being thwarted by his enemies, the destruction of his mutilated soul and his own followers turning from him were creating this tangled, oppressive, paranoid atmosphere. 

It would be better for the both of them. Bellatrix was reliable, she was under his control and despite her better nature was still chained to him. She had nowhere else to turn and it wouldn't be long until she submitted to him entirely. 

As he approached her, her soft crying stopped. Perhaps she sensed the danger was over. 

“Back to bed with you.”

Only her bed was in smithereens. He considered repairing what was left of the scorched quilt, leaving her on the floor. It would be enough for her but the idea that she was gaining any strength back, becoming healthier in any way stopped him from this. 

“Go next door. I will be out.”

Her eyes widened as she realised that he meant for her to stay in his room. He knew he would be out so it certainly meant nothing, it would be for one night until he found somewhere else for them. 

He moved closer to her, his hand reaching around her to the small of the back in some sort of awkward hug. He moved it up her skin, ignoring how she shivered until it was at the back of her neck. Her tears had dried, the bruise still vivid and ugly. 

“Off with you now.”

He had no time for distraction.

 


	28. Chapter 28

 

 

 

The Dark Lord stood at the crest of the hill, the sharp breeze cutting at him. Despite it being early summer, the sharp wind off the wild Atlantic cut at his skin. 

It was rather refreshing, the almost bitter coldness. He had never been one for the heat. 

He turned around then, his back to the chorus of the crashing waves, to approach the large, old stone mansion behind him. It was a huge black slate thing, imposing in both colour and build. 

It had belonged to the Lestranges. Not their main manor but just one of the other very large homes they owned, one they might have visited once a year if time permitted. Rabastan, as new heir apparent, had given him permission to base himself there, not as if much permission was needed. There were very few members of the Lestrange family left, certainly not enough for them to ever run out of huge homes. He would never dare decline a request from his Lord.

He could feel the first drops of rain as he approached the house, just as he was crossing the threshold back into the heat, the rain became torrential. 

As he wandered through the cool manor, he found Bellatrix in the parlour. She held a long piece of black material in her hand, using her wand to practice the garment spells he had suggested to her. She was already wearing one of the new dresses she had made. It was a long, plain black thing, the dodgy seams and near crooked cut making it obvious she was still an amateur. Though modest in style and less than perfect in execution, it suited her. 

She glanced up and gave him a small, strained smile. “Master.”

Voldemort took a seat in one of the number of armchairs scattered around the room. It was warmer in here, Bella had obviously taken care to light the fire early but the exposed stone work and tall ceilings made it difficult to heat sufficiently. 

He felt more comfortable in this new manor. It was reassuring that she was isolated again and safe. A part of him had considered that the company she had at Malfoy manor, though not exactly welcoming, was better for her health. He preferred to keep her away from everything, that way he could ensure she was safe, he could figure out whatever was concerning Dumbledore as well as keeping her away from anyone who would try to influence her. 

He watched as Bellatrix paused in her work for a moment, her eyes staring at the large portrait above the fire, her eyes vacant as if she couldn't really see it. She seemed miles away, as if not really acknowledging the Lestrange family portrait, a younger Rodolphus and Rabastan with their stern looking parents. They stared out impassively, more concerned with maintaining an air of superiority and detached nonchalance than about the apparent intruders in their ancestral home. 

“There were a number of places we could have taken up residence, this was very convenient. I almost considered approaching your mother, or rather Druella. I know the Black’s have an extensive collection of properties, you might have felt more at home.”

She started at this, obviously wary of the small smirk that had appeared on his face. The idea of returning to an old home seemed to stress her. 

“Then I remembered what you had said the last time we had talked of Druella. You had wanted to kill her.”

She squirmed uncomfortably with the memory, her materials limp and forgotten in her hands.

“Do you still feel that way?”

He was genuinely curious. She had been so angry, so certain at that time. He had considered inhabiting a Black residence but he was concerned about the effect this would have on her. That it may remind her too much of her previous life, her life before him. That it would put her on a better footing, being surrounded by an environment familiar to her. It wasn't worth the risk. 

Bellatrix seemed to think on his a moment, her head bowed as she fiddled with the seam she had been working on. It was beginning to loosen under her ministrations but she didn't seem to notice. 

“I hate her, after what you told me. I was so angry that she could betray the family in such a way. My father never deserved anything like that. No matter what he had done before. And to drag poor Regulus into it, it was just evil. But, no, I don't think I could…”

It didn't surprise him. That intense sense of betrayal and anger had settled, she had become used to it now. It would have only been something she could have acted on in the moment with his assistance. 

“She never treated you like family, I am surprised you could have such loyalty to her.”

She seemed surprised by this. “It is not just loyalty that stops me wanting to kill another person. She was cold to me, when I was growing up. She resented me, I didn't understand it when I was a child, why she treated me differently. Why she never seemed to really like me. I was evidence of my fathers indiscretion. She wasn’t abusive though. She hated Walburga and more than once had to come to my defence against her.”

Her voice shook a moment as she spoke. “She killed my father. I could never forgive her but I don’t think I could live with killing her.”

She seemed apologetic in that moment, as if she anticipated that he would be angry at her lack of bloodlust. 

He wasn’t angry. Rather, he felt disappointment along with some other strange, unidentifiable feeling. 

“You have been raised to be weak. I have seen you, I know you could have been a very powerful witch. You are intelligent and skillful. They raised you to feel you were unworthy, that you couldn't never live up to their standard because of your blood. They filled you with doubt.”

He knew this. It had happened to him. He had at least known, he had recognised this and had been able to use their doubt as his own strength. It propelled him to rise, he would never be held back by the opinions of others. He had been determined that he would be worthy, now everyone else sought his approval. 

It seemed to pain her, that he should suggest that perhaps her father and her upbringing had not been perfect. He knew he had hit a nerve although it did not give him great pleasure to force this realisation. 

“You have the capability, it is a shame what was done to you. You shouldn’t let that dissuade you. You could have risen to such power within my ranks.”

Unfortunately that was not to be. 

She was silent for a few moments, it seemed to stun her that he would say such things to her. It angered him as he realised himself what he had lost out on and he felt uncomfortable with what he had said. He had never been every good with compliments, not unless it was outright flattery for his own ends. Manipulation in such a way was easy. The words were only palatable because he knew them to be objective truth, it was much easier to rationalise this way. 

He didn’t want her to get too carried away with his words though. 

“It’s starting to get dark. Make some dinner, I will be out from early so will settle early tonight.”

Appearing a bit confused, she put the dress she had been working on to one side and stood to leave the room. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Dark Lord shrugged out of his heavy, damp cloak as he climbed up the stairs toward his room. He had chosen for himself the master room, a huge wooden panelled dark room with a large, dominating four poster bed. 

He threw the cloak over the back of a chair as he paced around the room for a moment. The fire was lit, it had obviously been left for a while. He vaguely wondered where Bellatrix was but felt sure he already knew the answer. 

Leaving his own room, he went next door to hers. The room was a touch smaller than his own but filled with the same dark panelled wood. The bed spread and fabrics a bright red colour instead of the deep navy of his. 

Moving over to the window, he knew she would appreciate this room. There was a variety of rooms in the large house that he could have placed her in but this room, with its huge sea facing window offered the greatest view apart from his own. The sky and sea were both grey, he was sure it would be raining later. 

He spotted her on the pebbled beach below. She was wearing one of those long, dark dresses, wrapped with a black cloak. She even had a pair of long black gloves on, whether she found or made these he wasn’t sure. The wind was playing up and her dark hair blew in all directions though she didn’t seem to mind. 

He had spent the morning meeting with contacts and travelling across the country. A regiment of Irish troops had arrived, largely posted around significant magical sites. Diagon alley had more troops than shoppers but he couldn’t deny the effect. Civilians that had braved coming out certainly seemed more comfortable in their presence. 

It was largely symbolic but posed problems anyway. He could send his followers to fight them, dwindle their numbers and either force them home or to face a further influx. It seemed a large waste of time and an unnecessary risk to lose followers to such battles. Rather he needed to strike at the head of the beast, so to speak. 

He watched as Bellatrix picked up a handful of grey stones, absentmindedly throwing them into the sea. She seemed calmer now, as if the isolation suited her but he could still sense an inner restlessness. Something that was still gnawing at her. 

The wind whistled lightly as it hit the window and he could see the first drops of rain landing. Though it was surely beautiful, the natural climate of the Scottish isles kept many away. 

He watched as she started to make her way back toward the house. Leaving her room, he went downstairs to his new workshop. With a sharp flick of his wand, the door unlocked and opened. 

Everything was as it had been. He had taken much care to ensure it was always locked now. Though no more had been said about her thievery, he would not trust her alone in the room. 

He had started to rethink his plan regarding the potion. As much as it pained him to admit, he was unlikely to find some way around the potion ingredients. His only real chance was to win Bellatrix around. 

He found her obstinance infuriating and he wasn’t entirely sure he had the patience for it but he would try to win her around slowly. 

Though the Dark Lord hated to admit it, it was difficult. Lying to people, manipulating and charming them was easy to do when you felt nothing but contempt for them. Though he recognised his own self-restraint he had been resistant to initiate this tactic with Bella, not just because he was concerned of how this would change her behaviour and image of him. To slip into that role may inadvertently influence himself in ways he hadn’t anticipated. It felt like giving into a weakness, like he was revealing some sort of unknown secret.

“Master.”

He turned toward the door, Bellatrix had returned inside. She stayed on the other side of the doorway, understanding there was an invisible threshold to which she was not yet welcome. 

Her cheeks were ruddy from the biting wind outside, her eyes shining and he could see her shaking slightly. 

“You shouldn’t stay outside when it gets so cold.”

She nodded and he watched her pulling off her black gloves. Her hand were red and trembling. 

Voldemort moved towards her, took her hands between his own when he reached her. They felt icy cold. 

“You’re gloves don’t seem to offer much protection. You should take more care, otherwise I may have to restrict your time outside.”

She nodded up at him, slowly pulled her hands away when he released them. 

“Would you like dinner now?”

He gave a short nod. “Reheat that soup from yesterday, that should be enough.”

She left him to it, he could hear her pottering around downstairs and when he entered the kitchen he was pleased to see the soup with two bowels and warm bread. 

“Sit.”

She did as she was told, nervously sitting, waiting until he sat before she started eating. He grabbed a bottle of wine from one of the wooden cupboards and two glasses.

Bella quirked an eyebrow when he set one in front of her. He sat opposite her and poured a modest glass for each of them. 

It was quite a domestic thing to do he supposed, he never usually indulged in such things but the stillness of the place, made it feel easier to do such things. Such normalcy may helped her to open up as well. 

“Taste it.”

He took a sip of his own, the solid, fruity flavour warming him. He started to try the soup when he realised she was still just sitting there. 

“Don’t be rude, have some.”

He wondered briefly what it would be like, to see her drunk or even tipsy. He was sure he had never even seen her truly relaxed, not including the episode of inebriation following his wayward attempts at the potion. That however, he didn’t believe was a true representation of her personality. Dampening her inhibitions would be interesting but getting rid of them completely had created a whole other person. 

Voldemort stared at her pointedly until she finally gave in, reluctantly taking a small sip. 

It was rather pleasant, to just sit there and enjoy a simple meal. He felt much more content away from the everything, isolated as they were from everyone. It allowed clarity to his thoughts, the paranoia had ebbed away. It was easier being away from those whom he was not entirely sure he could trust, it would allow him to prioritise what was really important. 

They finished their meal largely in silence, he noticed by the time they had finished she had had less than half the glass but ignored it. There was barely more drunk from his own glass and he could see from the slight flush of her cheeks that she probably wasn't used to tolerating much anyway.

“Clean these up quickly.”

Watching her as she stood to clear everything away, he thought on the fact that he had become much more generous with her. He no longer created work for her, he was satisfied as long as she kept the place clean, she could use the rest of the time as her own. 

Voldemort left her to it to spend his time in the lounge sifting through various notes and letters. He had sent a number of followers to chase after Dumbledore, who now posed the greatest risk to his movement. Without him, everything else would fall into place. 

He had received very little useful information regarding the old man. As expected the majority of his time was spent at the school. The headmaster left every so often, at times certainly to meet with his own rebels, the rest of the time Voldemort couldn’t be sure what he was up to. The man was not to be easily kept tabs on. 

The fact he had lost Severus and that Pettigrew was unable to even gain access to the man’s office meant he was very much in the dark. 

The man needed to be disposed off, with his knowledge of his horcux and his skill, he was the only wizard who truly stood any chance of stopping him. 

He glanced up when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. At some point, Bellatrix had come into the room. She was looking through the knick knacks in the press against the wall. 

She seemed to be at a loose end, it was strange that she seemed to seek him out. 

For a moment he watched as she picked up a small photograph of the two Lestrange brothers with their father. Though all three of them were very formally dressed, it was obvious how much affection there was between them as they smiled, the father ruffling the hair of the youngest. He knew Bellatrix surely recognised them from this age, certainly Rodolphus had spent a lot of time with the Black family as the betrothed to one of their daughters. 

“For some reason I can't understand, you seem to be very sentimental about the idea of family.”

She placed the portrait back down, frowning as she digested his observation. 

“Family is important, I’m not sure there are many people that would disagree with that. It is stranger to not understand that.”

She turned her back to him for a moment as she seemed to realise what she had said. He pushed the papers he had been reading to one side before answering. 

“Perhaps by not having family, I have been able to appreciate how much they can hold you back. The uselessness of such relationships. Having such weak people dragging you down.”

She turned back to him, her cheeks rosy as she opened her mouth before deciding to keep quiet. 

“You seemed to do well enough without your mother. What would have happened to you if she hadn’t killed herself? You would have been brought up as a poor, bastard half-blood, you would have never known the lifestyle you became accustomed to.”

He knew, even as the words left him, that it was a rather malicious thing to say but he didn’t doubt the truth of it. 

“I understood this. I appreciated my mothers weakness, she allowed herself to die. It was my father, the useless, vain fool that gave me nothing except my superficial appearance. I knew how ridiculous it was that he could even be considered a relation, it was best for me to prune that rotten branch.”

She looked confused at what he was saying, or perhaps unwilling to realise what he was suggesting. 

“I killed him when I found out who he was. Along with his parents.”

“That’s…” She seemed disturbed but also saddened. He had not expected that. She crept closer toward him, though staying beside the furniture against the wall. “You had no family. Perhaps that’s why you cannot appreciate them. That’s rather sad.”

He stood then suddenly, his skin prickling uncomfortably as he recognised her pity. He stalked towards her, pleased she at least had the grace to step back nervously. He grasped onto her shoulders and shook her with force. 

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

She whimpered at the strength he had grasped her with, realising how she had overstepped. With a calming breath he loosened his grip, a hand coming up to feather along her cheek, the last remnants of her fading bruise disappearing. 

“I have mastered you. I have no use for your pity.”

That seemed to do little to alleviate her sadness but she nodded slowly. 

Without conscious thought, his hand left her cheek to drift down to the curve of her waist. 

“Now that all your family has deserted you, you will realise real strength.”

Her head dipped again, her slow curls tumbling downwards, the ends tickling his finger. “You should perhaps retire now, continue practicing on your garment skills.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort felt restless, he paced around the small library in the candlelight. It was late, he had sent Bellatrix to bed not long before. 

He knew he should retire himself, his body felt the fatigue but his restless mind would give him no peace. 

Mindlessly he flicked through one of the books, the words meant nothing to him. In his state he could hardly concentrate for such dense material. 

Instead he headed upstairs, towards his bed. 

As he stalked down the darkened corridor, he realised the faintest light was coming from Bella’s room. Though the wooden door was firmly shut, the scant light broke through underneath it. 

He couldn’t be sure if she was still awake although it hadn’t been that long since he had sent her away, or if she had just developed a preference to sleep in the light. 

Regardless, without thinking about the decision he was making, he opened the door. 

Not only was Bellatrix still awake, she was still in the process of readying for bed. She jumped when she realised he had come into the room but there was little she could do to protect her modesty. She had been stood at the dresser, only dressed in her simple black underwear. Somehow he noticed the lace detailing on her bra, that was certainly new. Obviously she had been putting her dressing skills to more use than he had realised. 

She was mesmerising, stood there with her long cascading shiny locks flowing down her back. Her pale skin glowed, except for her cheeks where a blush was starting to appear. Certainly he could admire the improvement her diet had made to her figure. 

Failing to cover herself at all with her hands, she went to grab the nightdress she had left sitting on the end of the bed. He crossed the room, reaching her before she could grab the dress. 

“You don't need to hide from me.”

His hands held onto her throat loosely as he admired just how beautiful she looked in the flickering candlelight. When he realised her tongue had peaked out to wet her lips as she noticed his eyes flicker down to her lips, he couldn’t resist any longer. 

He dipped down to press his Iips firmly against hers. Though she was stiff initially, he could practically feel her melting as he drank her in. Her hesitance seemed to melt much faster this time, as if she had become more accustomed to such a thing. 

His hand glided down her back, the soft skin delicate beneath his broad hand. It gave him a thrill to feel her tremble beneath him although he had no idea if it was due to his touch or the chill in the room. 

With deft movements, he unclipped her bra at the back, felt it loosen around her shoulders before he pulled it away. Bellatrix seemed reluctant to lose it and as soon as it dropped to the ground, her hands came up to shield her breasts from his view. 

“Come away with that.”

Voldemort pulled her hands away, holding onto them for a moment as he stared at her bareness. Returning to her natural weight had done her a world of good and he loved the fact that most of it had seemed to have settle in her curves. 

Her eyes shimmered as his hand ran along her waist down to her hip. He gave her a shove, almost causing her to stumble, and made it abundantly clear he wanted her to move to the bed. 

“Uhh… I don’t…”

He could feel her resistance as he lead her, the way her feet seemed to stick on the carpet. 

“Shh, it’s okay.”

When he had got her close enough to the bed, he hooked his arms around her hips and threw her back onto the bed. It was soft and quite high, she seemed to sink into it when she landed with an oomph. 

“Master?” 

Her voice was soft and throaty, despite her obvious apprehension. 

“I’m not, I can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

“You don't need to tell yourself that.” 

He climbed onto the bed, looming over her on his hands and knees, pleased to see how her breath seemed to hitch. She was tense again as she lay beneath him, hands by her side but not actively rejecting him. 

The Dark Lord dipped down to her again for a languorous kiss before his lips drifted to her throat and down to her collarbone. He could already feel himself straining against his trousers, the urge to take her rather violently was driving him mad but he vowed to take his time. 

He drifted down, a hand caressing her soft breast as he nipped and suckled the other. She was breathing in short, excited gasps by now as he noted an aroused flush travel up from her chest to her cheeks. Her back arched toward him though she seemed uncomfortable at times, nudging his face away whenever he nibbled particularly hard. 

“Bella…”

Her leg absentmindedly brushed up against his side, as if trying to find purchase. Trying to dampen down his response to her, he drifted lower, nipping and kissing the smooth skin of her abdomen. She tensed in response, muscles taut and he had to grab her hands as she reached for him. He wasn't entirely sure if she was going to pull him closer or push him away. 

Bellatrix squirmed below him, gasping as he reached the boundary of her black underwear. Hooking a finger around them, he glanced back up at her. She looked genuinely fearful despite her obvious arousal. 

“No, don’t.”

She tried to close her legs, his position making that impossible. He wanted her to stop the pretence. He knew she was afraid but it was preposterous for her to deny that she wanted him. From her bodies response alone, he knew that to be true.

With a firm tug, he pulled the underwear down revealing her to him in all her glory. She tried to squirm away from him again so he used the hand clasping her wrists, to press them down onto her stomach effectively pinning her. 

“Relax, you will enjoy it more if you allow yourself to.”

With that, he pressed delicate kisses to her inner thigh. It didn’t take him long to caress his way up towards her. She was beautiful, as soon as his mouth touched her, she began panting and moaning. The taste of her was divine, she filled his senses and he realised just how intimate this felt as her thighs gently pressed on either side of his face. 

He felt a hand grasp onto his shoulder, he had no one idea if it was an act of encouragement or an attempt to push him away. It didn't stay very long as he caressed her with his mouth, taking care to be gentle, even as he became more enthusiastic. Her hand reached instead for the quilt cover, wrapped around her clenched hand as she raised her hips to him. 

He vaguely realised he was using the bed below him to add friction, his hardness near painful as he became more excited with her pleasure. 

“M-master.” Her voice caught, a soft, breathy thing that did nothing to dampen his excitement. 

As he added his fingers, probing her gently, he felt her start to clench around him. Her hips pressing toward him, attempting to get any kind of traction, as she started keening. Wild, incomprehensible noises he had never heard from her. 

Her pleasure hit its crescendo, her body tensing and he was immersed in the sweet taste of her. Her response to him and the rather vigorous movements he had been doing were embarrassingly enough to send him over the edge. 

As they returned to their senses, both gasping for air, he moved back from her. She closed her legs on reflex, watching his next move, perhaps anticipating that it wasn’t over. 

His gaze blazed over her for a moment before he shifted off the bed, heading directly for the ensuite attached to her room. 

Cleaning himself up a bit, he cooled down, his lust addled brain returning to normal. He regretted retreating into her bathroom, he now had to face a choice when he left. To either join her or leave for his own bedroom. 

Obviously he had to leave, it would likely give her the wrong impression if he chose to stay. 

No, no it made no sense for him to stay. He would return to his own room. If anything, she should be warming his bed. 

Once he felt more collected, his decision made, he opened the door. 

Bellatrix was under the covers now, the covers just low enough that he knew she was still naked underneath. Her flush had settled but her hair was all over the place. It was obvious he had pleased her, which gave him a thrill of its own. 

His gaze drifted toward the ajar door but against his better judgement, he found himself stripping the rest of his clothes off. Bella watched him in confusion and when he was only left in his underwear he moved to the bed. He threw back the covers, ignoring her shiver as the cool air hit her exposed skin and climbed in beside her.  

There was a moment of awkwardness that persisted despite wat he had done to her only minutes before. Pushing through this, he deliberately adjusted the pillows below his head, making himself comfortable resolutely ignoring her as he flicked his wand to dim all the lights. 

After a silent few minutes, as he started to drift off, he felt Bella slide ever so slightly closer, resting her head against his arm. 

 

* * *

 

 

As his eyes fluttered opened, cringing in the bright morning light, he felt disorientated for a few moments. He had been in a very deep sleep, had been so comfortable that he was sure something must have woken him. He blinked and realised he was not in his own room. 

The events of the night before came flooding back to him and he realised he was not alone. He was lying prone on the bed, facing towards the door, an arm flung out behind him over a warm and soft body. 

He turned his head around and realised he had been woken by the sense of his bed companion’s wakefulness. Bellatrix was lying on her back, his arm was slung across her upper abdomen, essentially pinning her down. She was watching him blearily, obviously still tired. As he fought to stifle a yawn, his thumb traced along her waist and he noticed her trying to stop a shiver. 

Her eyes wandered across him eventually drifting to his exposed back. She stared for a moment before, almost without thought, she reached out a tentative hand, her fingers stroking along the silver scars he knew were there. 

“Don’t.”

Half-asleep, it didn’t sound as authoritative as usual but it was enough to cause her hand to recoil. 

“Sorry.”

They lay there in awkward silence for a moment. He could tell she was still thinking about it, how he came to have such markings. He didn’t like her to dwell on such things. Instead he rolled over, pulling his arm off her and mirroring her position on her back. 

It was an almost comfortable silence, perhaps because they were both only half awake. He had a lot to do, he needed to get up and start things. Somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to pull away. It felt as though everything else in the world was so very far away at that moment. 

Glancing over to her, he saw her eyes on him for a second before they quickly flicked away. 

“Are you still afraid?”

He hadn’t meant to ask it, he hadn’t even been aware it was something he was curious about, it just came from nowhere.  Perhaps as the dynamic between them had changed so much, he had wanted to know what else had changed. 

She seemed surprised by the question as well. 

“Umm. It’s, I don’t know. It’s hard to say.” She shifted a little, rubbing absentmindedly at her collarbone. The duvet came up to her chest and as she moved, he was reminded she wore nothing underneath. He gave him a very strong urge to rip it down to expose her breasts. Unaware of this, she continued in her low, pensive tone. “It’s like feeling something for so long, it becomes the norm. It’s a state of being rather than an emotion.”

Voldemort nodded, able to understand that. 

“Even though I know the things you have done to me, it’s all just a sort of plateau, I’m at the point where I can rationalise it all.”

He turned to her sharply at this, having a feeling that there was more to her words than she meant to reveal. She was looking down at her crossed arms now which were holding her part of the duvet close to her chest. 

“What do you mean by that? What are you talking about?”

She took a steadying breath. “I know.” 

Bellatrix looked up at him then, the piercing look in her eyes set him on edge. 

“I know what you did to me, back then.”

He understood then, exactly what she was talking about. She knew that he had attacked her, that he had forcibly taken her. It didn't make any sense, he knew he had attempted to take her memories away from her. At the time it had seemed to work. His sudden anger at her, clouded his judgement. 

Disturbed by her admission, he pulled back. The fact that she didn’t seem upset or angry, set him further on edge. He climbed out of the bed, flicking his wand so that his clothes wrapped around him. He paced for a second before turning back to Bella. 

She was clutching onto the duvet covers apprehensively, holding them almost up to her neck now. He was sure she must  have regretted saying anything about it. It was too late for that now though. 

He did not like that she was aware of his weakness. She should not have brought it up, she should not have ruined everything. 

“That was simply a momentary lack of control, resulting in an indulgence that shall not be repeated. It is nothing more. You should put this out of your head. Or I will do that for you.”

It was obvious she was even more confused now. This only irritated him further. When he took a decisive step towards her, she flinched.  It was enough to stop him in his tracks. 

He scowled at her for a minute, annoyed at himself for even caring about the look of fear she had, before storming out of the room. 

 

* * *

 

 

Voldemort had spent the rest of the day in a stormy mood as he prowled around the large mansion, taking care to avoid Bellatrix. Not that this was particularly difficult in such a large residence. 

The light was becoming dimmer and he would soon have to close the curtains and light the lanterns around him, the greyness outside seeping in. It was still early but the weather darkened everything. He moved from his position at the large bay window, where he could just about see Bellatrix sitting on a large boulder, just above the the pebbles where the sea was slowly rolling in. 

Dismissing this, he moved to the armchair, opening up the prophet he had already half read. He had stopped when he got to a small article about Barty Jr. It contained a rather irritating quote from Dumbledore, advising restraint in regards to punishment, that a young man with no evidence he was involved in any kind of torture or murder shouldn’t be seen unredeemable and that it would be wise not to want to punish him for the wrongs of all death eaters. 

Typical Dumbledore, standing up for his own young followers. It was up to Voldemort to defend and rescue his own followers as he saw fit, he didn’t need Albus interfering in this. 

He threw the newspaper down again in frustration, he couldn't even be bothered pretending to be interested in reading it. 

All of a sudden the room burst into green light as the fireplace came alive with floo. Out tumbled Peter Pettigrew, dusty and scruffy. 

He looked up fearfully from the floor, daring to get up. His arrival set Voldemort on edge immediately. 

“This had better be good.”

Peter looked terrified. 

  
“My Lord, I thought for sure you would want to know, that’s the only reason I dared come here.” He stood there for a few seconds, as if asking for permission to continue. He seemed uneasier than usual, his eyes flicking up to the large family portrait on the wall.  

Voldemort stood with menace. “Well, get on with it.”

“I overheard Dumbledore with Snape. Snape needs to get something important from his home. Dumbledore has suggested he goes to the ministry as a distraction. That you will likely go after him, letting Snape sneak around under the radar.”

This sounded very curious. “Do you know what it is he wants to retrieve?”

Pettigrew squirmed uncomfortably at the question, the unscrupulous man always looked so guilty. 

“I am not sure my Lord, what ever it is, they talk about it as if it is very important but I couldn’t find out anymore.”

This was not what he wanted to hear. “I am finding your piecemeal information rather irritating. You live in that castle, I am disappointed by how little actual intelligence you have been able to provide. It is practically gossip and hearsay you are providing.”

The snivelling man trembling pathetically. “I’m sorry my Lord. I just thought this was information you would be keen to receive as soon as possible.”

His icy tone letting up for a moment. “When is this to take place?”

“This evening my Lord. I am unsure exactly what time but Dumbledore was planning to go to the ministry around the time most workers are about to go home.”

That didn’t leave very long to get anything arranged.

“Anything else?”

Peter shook his head balefully. “Not currently, my Lord.”

“Go back, keep an eye out. If you find out anymore about the plans tonight, let me know promptly.”

With speed the duplicitous man practically ran back to the fireplace, obviously glad to be out of the way. 

The Dark Lord closed his eyes for a moment as he considered his next course of action. He didn’t know what Severus could possible need to retrieve from his home. He knew his followers had turned the place inside out when Snape had first betrayed him, although the man was very clever, it wasn’t impossible that he could have hidden something. 

A small part of him had hoped it was his horcrux when he had first heard the news but he knew this was impossible. He was certain that all but the diadem had been destroyed. Whatever it could be, it would be important, for both men to risk exposure, they wouldn’t do this without weighing up the risk. The fact that Dumbledore was assisting was just another reason that Voldemort knew he had to intervene. 

Something about it just didn’t sit right with him though. He couldn’t put his finger on it and unfortunately there was much too little time to mull over it. Part of his success was the ability to make plans and move quickly with new information. 

Within seconds, Lucius, Rabastan, Dolohov and Avery all stood before him. He paced in front of them for a moment before facing them all. 

“I want you four to make contact with the rest of my followers at the ministry. You, along with some of your younger counterparts will go to the ministry. You will set up an ambush. Dumbledore is to arrive there this evening. He is currently our number one enemy and he needs to be eliminated. Whomever is successful in this will be greatly rewarded.”

The four men looked between each other in nervous excitement for a moment, only Lucius appearing as daunted as should be expected. 

“You will be incognito. You can bring as many other followers as you wish but remember it should be quality not quantity in this mission.”

After pausing a beat, he continued. “I will not be there but will be watching from the sidelines, ready to intervene if you all fail me. Dolohov, you will lead along with Malfoy. Try to keep casualties at a minimum but remember that this is one of our last greatest hurdles in this fight. Success at this will ensure absolute power for us and I will remember each of your roles in this endeavour.”

The four men nodded slowly, the weight of this mission finally seemed to rest upon them. 

“We won’t let you down my Lord.”

Dolohov spoke with such confidence, his surety had always been a good quality. 

“You only have a few hours to prepare, go off with you now. Keep me informed.”

He turned his back on them as they all took their leave and made his way toward the large window where he could see Bella had hardly moved. 

It was decided that he would go to Severus. They were taking great pains to ensure that the Dark Lord was distracted, it was obvious it was the more important place to be. If his followers had any success against Dumbledore, than that would be all for the better. If not, then at least Voldemort would be successful.

He wouldn’t be going alone though. He had already decided in the back of his mind, even as he ordered his other followers. Bellatrix would come with him, she was capable and reliable. Too many people could create havoc, one trusted companion, one who could be sacrificed if truly required, would be all that would be needed. Not that he was planning on allowing her demise at the end of another’s wand anytime soon.

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

Her hands were cold again. Voldemort noticed it when he grasped one in his own, almost as soon as she returned to the manor.

She frowned at him, just about resisting pulling away.

“You have your wand?”

Instinctively, her hand went to brush toward her wand contained in its holder but she managed to stop herself.

“Eh, yes.”

He gave a sharp, approving nod. “Good, you will need it. Keep it out. We are apparating to the home of Severus Snape.”

“Wait, what?”

Though she was alarmed, he had no time to offer any assurance.

“We are going to Spinner’s end.”

With that he grabbed her, apparating to appear in an empty alleyway. Though it was little warmer, everything around them looked grey. Bellatrix stumbled, leaning back against the brick wall as she tried to catch her breath.

“Get a hold of yourself. We are going to his home, you must anticipate that we could be ambushed at any second.”

He had to admit that despite this he was not too concerned. The intrigue was too great for him to feel much reserve.

“Come.”

He strode out onto the empty street. There was a light mist hanging in the air, almost obscuring the factory chimneys in the near distance. The area had a decrepit, dilapidated feel and he knew well the collapse of industry in such as place was a confounder.

It was exactly the drab type of place he would have expected someone like Snape to have grown up. Many of his followers grew up in mansions, in luxury and wealth. He understood that many of them had issues with Severus, that he had been so well esteemed in the eyes of their Lord. He was like a creature from another life and it caused many of them to treat him with disdain. Voldemort had always been aware that the younger man had value more than just riches and the illusion of power.

He walked purposefully to where he knew the man had lived. Bellatrix was almost skipping to keep up with his fast pace, half trailing behind him.

Immediately he knew the place, as soon as he rounded the corner to Spinner’s End. Half the houses were abandoned, windows smashed and doors boarded up. Only one had obvious marks of spell damage.

The Dark Lord had sent his followers here straight after he had learnt of the defection. He knew that they had found nothing. Which made it more curious that Snape would decide to return.

His pace slowed as he made his way down the row of terraced housing. Bellatrix had caught up with him by now and he could practically feel the tension rolling off her.

Discretely he pulled out his wand, although there was no one around to see them.

As he neared, he could not sense any kind of wards. His followers had likely been able to dismantle any bit of residual magic.

The door was half ajar as they finally reached it. No sounds came from within and there did not seem to be anyone present.

“Hominem revelio.”

One person was present.

He almost hadn't believed that it would be true. Pettigrew didn't seem the most reliable and even this seemed to rash for the coolheaded and ever stoic professor.

Voldemort turned back to his companion.

“He is in there. Alone. I want to to follow me inside, you are to stay by the door and make sure no one comes in or out. You do not need to be involved in this fight but you must be ready for action if needed. Do you understand?”

She was afraid, that much was obvious. But her wand had appeared in her own hand and he knew she was ready.

“Follow me.”

He pushed the door open, annoyed with the low creak that it made. The hallway was darkened and dusty, as if no one had stepped foot in it for a long time.

With almost tentative steps he moved forward, ensuring to silence his footsteps as he walked along the wooden floorboards.

It was dark, oppressive and exactly what he would imagine of such a cynical and antisocial man. He glanced up the stairs, doubtful he would find what he was looking for up there. He needed to search the ground floor, two closed doors ahead of him giving him pause.

Slowly one was pushed open. He stepped through it, it was obviously the living room. It smelt mouldy and the wall was covered in old books, he was sure with some very interesting topics. Nevertheless the room was empty.

There was a half open door to the side, he was sure it led to the same room as the door in the hallway. As he moved toward it, he heard the distinct sound of something being moved across a counter surface.

With lightening speed he threw the door open and rushed through into the small kitchen and dining area. It was a mess but he just caught the cloak of Severus Snape as he attempted to slink out the back way. Whipping back his wand, the younger man was yanked back toward him. Voldemort made sure to drag him back, watching as he scrapped along the dirty old linoleum floor before pulling him through to the living room.

The light seeped through the main covered window in uneven slits, lighting up the dust that had been thrown into the air by them.

Snape struggled for a few moments on the ground before giving up, staring up at his Lord resentfully. Now that Voldemort knew the man was his enemy, that he had defected, suddenly it seemed impossible that he could not have seen the vitriol the younger man had for him.

“Severus.”

The professor shifted again, this time it did not appear to be an attempt to escape but to merely position himself sitting up in some semblance of respectability.

“My Lord.”

He glanced around the room again, for some clue as to why the other man would have risked his life to return. It didn't escape his notice how little personal effects there were. He was sure he had once been told that he lived in his family home, there was nothing to suggest this at all, nothing sentimental lay about. It had been a trait he had once admired.

“Why did you come back here?”

A flash of something passed across Snape’s face. “I simply wanted a trip down memory lane.”

His wasn’t used to the acerbic tongue and it irked him that his once follower would dare to take such a tone with him.

“I know you have come back for a reason. What were you looking for? You would never risk your life on such an endeavour if it wasn’t for good reason.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Voldemort growled, infuriated by this.

“You blithering idiot, just tell me what you came for or I will be forced to turn your mind into a messy puddle.”

Taking what seemed to be almost a painful deep breath, the dark haired man steeled himself as he slowly responded. “I came here for you.”

That caught him by surprise, of everything he was expecting to hear, that was not it at all.

“What does that mean?”

“It means-” He spoke as if to a rather stupid child, an attitude that Voldemort was looking forward to putting an end to. “That I came here for you. I am not sure it could be put more simply than that.”

Without responding, he flicked his wand, the man on the ground screaming under the effect of his non-verbal crucio curse.

By the time he had been released, the professor did not quite look his usual unflappable self.

“Tell me what you mean by that? You could not possibly have come for me, you should have known for sure that you would be killed.”

He gave a tired sigh. "I guess I always expected to go this way, at some time or another."

Voldemort turned, pacing for a moment in consternation. "Don't distract me with all this talk, what did you come here for?"

"I have already told you, my Lord."

He watched as Severus slowly, almost painfully pulled himself up using the back of the rather battered armchair, only to slouch down into it. Voldemort allowed him this small comfort, or perhaps it was only a simple act of restoring some kind of dignity to himself.

It would not be long until he would have to kill the other man, he would allow him these small mercies.

"Tell me what I want to know or I will have to penetrate your mind, I will leave it in utter tatters, you will not even know who you are."

Snape swallowed thickly, at least he appreciated his Lord's immense power with regard to the mind. He was a man that appreciated that pain and such were transient, that to lose one's mind was a real terror. With some reluctance he responded.

"I am here to meet with you my Lord. As a distraction."

That was not what he had been expecting to hear. The admission caught him by surprise.

The confusion made him angry and he barked out. "What are you talking about?'"

Nervously pushing back the lanky hair on one side of his face, he continued. "It was the plan. To come here, to feed this information to you, so that you would come here."

"What?" Though he understood the words, he felt a disconnect for a moment, like it couldn't possibly make sense. "What are you talking about?"

With a humourless chuckle, Snape continued as If he didn't sense the ever increasing danger he was in.

"After I was no longer able to provide information from you, or to even get some information from Bellatrix, Dumbledore was keen to find someone with access so that we could maintain any chance at halting your rise. It was difficult to get anyone close enough who wasn't loyal or too afraid to betray you."

Well that was a relief to hear although Voldemort suspected that there were still informants, particularly in the lower ranks. There had always been too many leaks and as he had expanded his ranks, especially with less than dedicated followers, there was always a risk of discontent and disloyalty.

"Instead, you sent us the perfect means of information."

The statement caught him, like a bolt of lightening and he suddenly understood. It sent a spike of fear through him as his mind raced trying to catch up, trying to pinpoint everything he may have revealed. It was almost unfathomable that he could have been tricked in such a way.

"It was Wormtail?"

It wasn't really a question though, he knew the answer already.

Snape nodded with defeat. "He was found out within a very short space of time, he was not a very good choice of spy despite the fact he is an animagus. He had never been loyal to you, a creature of such cowardliness, he only did your bidding through fear. Dumbledore, somehow managed to convince him to change sides."

"Offered him some sort of safety I'm sure."

Though he should surely be furious at this information, the sheer shock of it had him baffled and fumbling to gain understanding, to climb back to have the upper hand.

Severus appeared almost as disgusted with this idea as Voldemort had been.

"Hmm. Well in any case, Dumbledore managed to swing him. He knew that you would never suspect such a pathetic man. That in your arrogance, you would never even consider to use legilimency on him, that you would never consider him capable of deceiving you. Nevertheless, with his permission we altered some of his memories, removed the most incriminating ones and returned them to him after each meeting with you. It was the little we could offer him but was sufficient."

It was true. Perhaps it had been his own pride, or arrogance but even now he had such difficulty truly believing that he could be betrayed by such a spineless, blithering fool. To have been deceived by Severus, though it had stung him to be betrayed by someone he had thought was loyal, at least he could understand how it could happen. There was no doubt that Snape was skilful, well beyond the meagre capabilities of some one like Pettigrew. How could he ever have suspected such duplicity from someone like Pettigrew.

"That alone made him one of our greatest assets."

Voldemort tried to search in his mind, everything he had told the man and every piece of information he had been fed from him. It had all been compromised.

"So the information I was given, that you would be here to collect something valuable, it was false."

With some resignation, the younger man nodded. "Yes, my Lord. It was hoped you would be concerned that... Well that you would be concerned enough to come here yourself."

"But there is nothing here."

Perhaps they had believed that he was still hoping there was a horcrux left for him to salvage. Rather stupidly the hope had only just truly died. It seemed that they were unaware that he was able to sense each of their destruction.

As he looked down upon the other man, he had to admire his bravery. It was not an attribute he had considered in him before, everything about him screamed Slytherin down to the very core. It was a most unexpected quality, almost unfathomable to him that someone would walk so willingly to their own death. He had never considered Snape as someone who would offer themselves up as a sacrifice.

"And the rest?"

"Mostly it was just a way for us to get some kind of update on what was happening. The only way we could really have any influence, as little as it was."

"What do you mean by that?"

Snape opened his mouth, momentarily paused before continuing slowly. Perhaps realising now finally, the delicate territory he was entering.

"Dumbledore decided that he wanted Pettigrew to tell you that we were hunting Bellatrix, that she needed to be destroyed."

For a moment, a tightness settled in his chest at her name. With clenched jaw, it was obvious to Snape that he wanted him to continue.

"He knew that no matter any tiny morsel of affection you may have had toward Bellatrix or lack thereof, she was in grave danger from you. Any attempt that had been made, where there has been any opportunity for rescue has been a failure and he was becoming concerned, based on information he had been receiving that she may no longer be in a mind to escape. He was sure the only thing that we could do to have any kind of influence for her safety was to allow you to believe she was important to you, to your rise in power, so important that we would be willing to eliminate her."

He was furious that he had been so easily made a fool of. That his enemies had known that she was more than an ordinary servant and had been concocting plans regarding this, that they were trying to use this to manipulate him.

That he had fallen for it.

Without a moment's hesitation, he sent a curse at him. "Crucio."

Severus gave a horrible howl as the curse wracked through him breathless by the time he recovered. The normally unflappable man, was gasping and sweating as he tried to pull himself together once he was realised, tugging on his robes to get them into some semblance of order.

"Your efforts were for nought."

It caused Severus to pause. He didn't dare probe for further explanation.

"Your little plan to save her. It failed, she is dead."

He could almost swear the other man had become paler, his sallow skin losing any bit of colour it had. His expression hadn't changed, not that could be detected by him but there was definitely something in the air around him that had shifted.

"That is unfortunate."

And that was it. It was all he would say.

Voldemort was glad that Bellatrix had not been around the last time he had met with Wormtail, it was entirely believable that she could have been killed. As long as she remained on her guard by the front door, there was no reason Severus would learn the truth before he died.

"Yes it rather is but sometimes these things can't be helped, no matter what your little games were. Just yet another woman you have failed to save from my hand."

There was a long pause as he seemed to need the time to collect himself.

"Wh- how did it...?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is, your efforts were futile."

He gave a soft sigh in resignation. Without peering into his mind he knew what he was thinking. Perhaps it was for the best.

"It is almost a shame I am going to have to kill you. You were ever so useful, such a waste that you chose the wrong side."

At this Snape straightened up imperceptibly. "I'm not quite sure I would agree with you. The people that you have killed including Bellatrix, the pain you have inflicted. The terror and the corruption. I am happy to have played any small role in your defeat."

He gave a dismissive hum. "Yes, all very admirable."

Raising his wand slowly he pausing in the silence for a moment. Feeling as if there was still something that had been left unfinished.

Severus seized upon this. "Tell me, my Lord. Did she know, when you killed her, that you had put an end to her sister as well? Was that your practice run, to make sure you could do it? Or was it just your personal ambition to kill all the members of the Black family?

Voldemort knew he was being baited, that Severus was trying to stick the knife in as his last act of passive aggression.

Both men jumped foolishly when the door slammed open hard enough that the little round doorknob dented the wall. A couple of books fell off the shelf beside them with the force but both men were distracted by the fury that was Bellatrix.

She was almost a vision, her hair wild around her head, her face illuminated in passionate violent rage. He could imagine her as one of those ancient vengeful furies. Her wand was out by her side although it didn't stay there for long.

With no regard for the atmosphere in the room, or the conversation that had been occurring, she burst forward.

"Is this true?" Despite the anger her voice still held a hint of a tremor. "Did you kill my sister?"

He barely resisted taking a step back, so astounded he was at her energy. When he took a fraction of a second too long to answer, she turned to Severus.

"Who did he kill?"

Snape's mouth was half open, whether surprised by her forcefulness or the mere fact that she was indeed still alive he could not say. He nodded transfixed for a moment before the rest of him caught up.

"Andromeda Tonks, by his own hand according to her husband."

Her eyes were blazing when she turned back to him despite the unshed tears that seemed to have sprung forth.

"How could you?"

Despite everything, she still sounded so shocked, betrayed and even disbelieving that he could have done such a thing. A heavy sensation seemed to settle in his chest and even as he opened his mouth, whatever words would come he wasn't sure, she had already turned back to the younger professor.

"Get out."

The words were spat out in venom although no one believed they were for Severus. He glanced toward the Dark Lord, suddenly unsure of the dynamics in the room.

"Do not dare move a muscle."

His wand was still partially raised, directed toward Snape although the urge to move it toward the greater threat was growing.

He could practically sense the magic buzzing around her, that electric energy. A memory flashed to him, her wildness in that memory after Andromeda had left. Only part of him was excited of the prospect of seeing it in reality. Being the cause of such a reaction was not as promising.

"Get out now, this is your chance to leave unharmed."

It didn't seem as though there was any intention toward wanting to save the other man's life, Voldemort thought that perhaps she didn't want anyone else to get between whatever cataclysm they were careening toward.

With a flick of his wand, a curse was sent toward Snape. It missed by a fraction as Severus had obviously sensed now that it was to be his only potential opportunity to make it out with his life. He had skirted around the armchair, a flash of a green curse had missed him by less than an inch.

A slicing curse managed to catch him on the forearm, but he didn't even flinch as he bolted behind Bellatrix.

"Come with me."

Bellatrix ignored it, as if she hadn't heard the desperate suggestion at all.

The Dark Lord roared in frustration, sending another killing curse just to the side of her, hoping to catch him. In that second a protective spell was raised. It of course did nothing to stop the curse which missed it's target and caused a deep scorch in the old dusty wall. Instead the sheer force of it exploded outwards, the next spell stopped before it could leave his wand and he had to take a step back from it.

By the time his breath had returned to him it was just the two of them. He knew Severus had escaped.

"You stupid woman, how dare you interfere in such a way."

She brushed the words off as if she hadn't even heard them. "It's true, isn't it? How could you do that? You didn't even say anything about it, you just carried on, you just let me..."

She trailed off, sounding furious and he was sure that at least half of it was directed at herself.

In a split second, all that energy burst forward. He couldn't even be sure if she was fully in control at that point. All the anger and rage smashed toward him, a stormy spiral of smoke and fire, sparks of energy pummelling toward him. He hastily raised his own protective spells, the heat still licking at him despite it.

"Stop this at once." His voice, a thunderous roar almost completely drowned out.

She was screaming now, a horrible thing that managed to mix the mournful with all the anger and frustration she was feeling.

With immense control he managed to rein it in, to smother it and force all of it back. It took only a minute, there was no way she could sustain such a thing much longer. When the dust and debris around them settled, the childhood home of Severus Snape now a shell of itself, he saw Bellatrix almost bent over. She had been weakened considerably from such a force of power and utterly emotionally drained. There were silent tears running down her face, making tracks through the dusty soot that had powdered everything including her cheeks. She seemed a husk of herself.

"How could you?"

Her voice was heavy with such emotion, it made him feel ill to hear.

"She was an enemy, a bloodtraitor."

A quick jinx was sent toward him, much weaker and easy to bat away.

"You didn't even know her. She abandoned you."

By now, all that violent, passionate anger that had been sustaining her, empowering her, seeped away. She was spent,, collapsing inward as she almost dropped to the ground, down on her knees.

She gave a couple of heaving gasps as she managed to hold back her anguish, hold back the sobs that wanted to escape.

"You never even forgave her for what she did, it was her fault you were left in this situation. You hated her."

He dared to get closer to her. He wanted his proximity to provide some comfort. To calm all this drama.

"I didn't hate her."

By now Bella's voice sounded utterly defeated. Weak as she tried to convince them both.

"She didn't care about you."

He was above her now, she had stopped flinging random curses at him and he crouched down beside her. His fingers found themselves in that chaotic mass of curls, running through the tangles. Getting caught every now and then but avoiding tugging and causing her pain.

She had given in and was crying freely by now. Her chest heaving every now and then when the effort seemed to great as he ran a hand smoothly down her back.

"Hush."

She looked up at him then, that angry fire in her eyes burnt out completely.

"She's really dead isn't she?"

"Yes."

It wasn't said cruelly. He saw no point in furthering her anguish.

"I always thought, that one day, that we would speak again. That it may go back to the way it was."

Bellatrix sniffled unattractively as she tried to pull herself back together. "I just... I just couldn't ever forgive her."

He took a place next to her, wrapping one arm around her, his fingers still dancing in her hair. Although he knew he could never empathise with her he did not like this. His intention had never been to hurt her with this. It had been his own weakness, his own need to overcome any vulnerability. Perhaps it had been the reason he had not shared it with her.

Voldemort was at a loss as to what to do next. He wanted to fit her back together, to the way things had been. She had been so strangely unmoved by the revelations regarding of his attack on her, whether she had already had time to digest the fact or if the memory charm still affected the impact of it, he had no idea. In turn this reaction was one he had no idea how to manage.

She continued without prompt.

"I just hadn't been able to forgive her. I had been so angry at her, for all these years."

Bella turned then, beseeching him, trying to explain herself. He thought it must be a comfort to her because she would know that the information meant little to him.

"I didn't care that she fell in love. I would have been happy for her. I wasn't like the rest of hem, I couldn't care less about his blood, none of that mattered to me. But she didn't say anything."

She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I don't even know how long they had been together, she never said. Obviously it was enough time for them to be serious, she already knew that they were going to marry. But even with all the plans they were making, she never once said anything. She knew how it would be for me, she knew her decision would impact me. I wouldn't have stopped her but she should have given me time. A day or two at least. As soon everyone found out, that was it for me. They wanted me gone. I had nothing, I hadn't made the same preparations she had."

Even despite everything, there was still an undercurrent of bitterness with the memory.

"But I did love her. I never talked to her again because I was just so angry with her even when I just thought about it. But I always thought there would still be time."

She looked up with her red rimmed eyes. "I just couldn't forgive her for saying nothing, for making sure that I was kicked out with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I didn't have the savings she had been collecting,, I didn't have the surrogate family happy to take me in."

She buried her head in her arms for a moment, her anger and bitterness at her sister warring with the grief she was feeling about her death.

"You have killed everyone I've loved. You have ruined everything. You are so cruel."

There was no responding to that. He knew it was true, his own true surprise was how often she seemed to forget this, to be shocked by every new act of barbarity that he committed.

They sat there crouched for a few minutes in silence but he knew they couldn't stay.

He had been lured there, for what reason he had no idea and in the process he hadn't even managed to kill Severus. In to the bargain, Bellatrix was now aware that he had murdered her sister. He wasn't sure how he was ever going to repair the damage caused by that particular revelation.

Voldemort thought vaguely about how his followers were getting on. That was supposed to be the distraction, his followers chasing after Dumbledore. But it was in fact himself that was led to distraction.

"Get up."

He climbed to his feet, waiting as she slowly pulled herself together. She was trembling lightly, the raw energy she had unleashed undoubtedly exhausting her now. If there had been time, or he had the inclination for such kindness, he could have given her more time, offered more comfort but there were bigger things to be concerned with at the moment. That could come later.

The Dark Lord knew he needed to get to the ministry. He needed to get to his followers, to collect himself and coordinate fresh plans. His enemies were a step ahead of him and it was setting him on edge.

Looking at Bellatrix, he considered his options. She was angry, upset and rather unpredictable at the moment. He did not want to risk a repeat of her previous self-destructive actions. However he also didn't want to send her back to the manor, the idea of leaving her alone sat uneasily with him.

"Come here."

He held out his hand to her, waiting for her so he could apparate. She stood stock still for a moment, looking at his hand with something akin to disgust.

With the greatest frustration he lurched forward, grabbing her lightly but possessively around the throat.

"After your little display here, interfering and allowing my enemies to escape, you are lucky I am considering bringing you along. I should kill you now and dump you somewhere no one would find you."

She stared passively up at him and he knew in his heart that he wouldn't do it. Perhaps she did as well.

He reached down and grabbed her hand instead, swirling away with her.

When they reappeared they were in the ministry. It took next to no effort for him to get in and they stood in the middle of Malfoy's rather opulent office. Lucius was standing behind his large, heavy set desk alone looking out the glass window. A position such as his gave him the largest, grandest office, extensive security and privacy as well as the highest potion with a perfect view of the atrium. No doubt his other followers were positioned strategically around the ministry.

Voldemort was almost disappointed by the calm, quietness in the atrium, the trudged down workers trying to keep their heads down. No hint of anything else at all.

"What has been happening?"

Malfoy swivelled around, surprised that he hadn't heard the silent apparition of his master. He was mildly surprised to see Bellatrix but sensing how serious things were, wasn't distracted by this.

"My Lord, no sign of Dumbledore yet. In fact, none of his followers have been spotted yet."

"No one?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, my Lord."

That was very alarming.

In that second,ike a flash of inspiration, it all became clear to him. Dumbledore was not going to come. It was all a ruse. The lies from Pettigrew, none of it was true.

But Wormtail had been to his home.

He swung around to Bella. "When we returned from Albania, did you ever tell Snape what we were doing? I know you gave him information with is promises of freedom."

She made no attempt to deny this, responding numbly.

"Yes, he asked me what you were doing, I told him you sought Ravenclaw's diadem."

They knew about the horcrux.

His blood ran cold as he realised how he had been deceived. How he had underestimated just what they knew of his plans.

Part of him wanted to scream and shout torture her for passing on such information. But now was not the time for him to lose his head. In fact, he thanked every instinct that he had that he had brought Bella along with him despite the mess at Spinner's end.

Turning to Malfoy, he snapped impatiently.

"Gather everyone. We need to go to Lestrange manor, no one is here. No one is coming."

Despite attempting to hide the alarm in his voice, he knew Malfoy had heard it.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Now, do it now, the war has been brought to us."

Everything was crumbling around him, he had been such a fool. This time there would be no running.

Malfoy rushed to do as commanded and Voldemort turned back to Bellatrix. Wrapping an arm around her he pulled her to him, vanishing again.


	30. Chapter 30

 

 

The cool, salty wind hit them as soon as he reappeared. Bellatrix shuddered beside him, tugging her robes to try and retain some heat. 

He ignored her as he watched out from their rocky outcrop. The slippery, sea blasted rock jutted out of the cliff and gave a clear and distant view over the Lestrange manor. 

Except it hardly looked the same. Somehow Dumbledore had managed to gather his own substantial army, a large contingency of witches and wizards bombarding the manor with various spells. Dumbledore couldn’t have organised this all himself, despite his reputation, such a gathering would have required some powerful assistance. 

His hand tightened on his wand as he watched them. They had already breeched through the wards surrounding the estate, it wouldn’t be long before Albus had figured out how to get into the manor. Unfortunately it was a branch of magic he knew that the headmaster was particularly skilled in. 

Voldemort turned back to his companion. The loose curls that had broken free were whipping around wildly in the near bitter wind, her cheeks had become ruddy with the cold and she was on the verge of shivering. He wondered if it was only from the temperature or the chaos she could see below them. 

Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up at him for a moment. He didn’t like what he could see reflected back at him. The pain and fear. She seemed to know what was happening, what was going to happen. He could feel it, her sadness like a shroud, wisps of it reaching out to him, attempting to ensnare him. It had almost a hypnotic effect.

Of course, he could leave her. Hide her away somewhere, safe from the enemies down there that wanted to destroy him. But where would he put her that she was be safe. He didn’t think he could trust any followers, they were all needed now anyway. 

Despite his reluctance, he knew the safest place for her would surely be at his side. There was no way he would allow his enemies to best him, to take the things he valued. 

“I…”

He trailed off, not entirely sure what he wanted to say. The fear and panic, his regret at Bella’s discovery regarding her sister, all of it seemed to hit some kind of crescendo. He felt trapped, like ripping through everything to free himself from whatever net he was falling into but despite all this agitation, all he really wanted to do in that moment was gather her to him. To wrap her into his arms and share some warmth, to try to patch up some painful cracks that had appeared with the days revelations. Some way of reaching out to her, across the chasm that had grown between them. 

This thought was pushed out of his mind as soon as he heard a loud pop. Turning, Malfoy approached him. There was a nervous, excited energy around him. 

“My Lord. I have contacted everyone, I wanted to confirm with you where you wanted us positioned.”

“I will be in the manor. You must rally everyone, have them attack the forces outside the manor and impede their attempts to gain entry. Hold as long as you can, I will contact you when troops can be withdrawn.”

The younger man nodded, his mind already calculating the best form of approach. As he went to turn he glanced at Bellatrix, his eyes flitted back to his Lord in unspoken question but he didn’t wait for an answer. Obviously he understood it was something he had no place to question. 

Just as the other man disappeared, he reached out for Bella’s hand which was reluctantly given. 

“We are going into the manor, you need to stay close to me. They want to hurt me and they will do that through you, if you give them any chance.” 

He paused for a moment to let the message set in. She looked over at the mayhem below, her eyes vacant for a moment. It didn’t bode well but he had no time to bring her to her senses. 

“Where was the bag?”

The question brought her round for a moment, cautious and worried. “Uh, in your room. Or my room, I can’t remember. It was usually in mine but you asked for it the other day, I gave it to you to use in the potion workshop. I’m not sure if I ever replaced it.”

That complicated things.

Attempting to hide his irritation, annoyed that he couldn’t be sure either, he warned her. “We will start in your room, stay close, keep your wand ready.”

She opened her mouth, a question on the tip of her tongue, perhaps a hint of defiance but died before it could be vocalised. 

He gave her second, to see if she could manage to make the words come. When it seemed certain that she would remain silent, he squeezed her hand tighter in his own before disapparating.

When they reappeared, it was in her room. There was already dust everywhere and Bella jumped as the manor reverberated with a boom as the spells worked on the wards. 

“Quick, look.”

Even as he said it, they scoured through the room. Bellatrix crouched by the bed, searching underneath. 

“Nothing?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

“Come on then, we’ll check next door before going downstairs, quick now.”

He yanked her arm, dragging her after him as he checked his own room. The windows were cracking under the pressure of the magic bombarding it. 

Inside they couldn’t find anything. 

He glared at his companion for a moment, as if there was anyway she could have fixed this, as if it was somehow her fault. 

Resisting lashing out, he snapped at her. “The potion room? You’re sure that’s the only place it could be?”

He saw her staring out the window for a moment, moving toward her to see what had so captivated her. 

There was a horrible clash of armies, his own followers had joined the flurry, spells clashing horribly as people fell. The spells on the house eased but there were still a determined few that continued their attempt to breech the wards. 

“It won’t be long. It can only be in the potion room, correct?”

The spell broken, she nodded at him. She looked pale and nauseated, as she if she would rather be anywhere else. He was sure he must have hardened her to such conflict by now but obviously he was wrong.

The manor shuddered again and he knew they were almost through, the first would break through in minutes, if it would even take that long with input from Dumbledore. His mission now was to get the horcrux. He would take out as many of them as possible but his concern was to minimise damage. 

He strode out of the room, knowing that Bellatrix would follow him, that she wouldn’t want to be left behind. As they raced down the hall the wards collapsed entirely. The stained glass windows shattered inward and he heard Bellatrix screech behind him. 

They made it to the wide, grand staircase, the wood already splintering apart under the forces hitting the large building. Just about making it down the disintegrating structure, he dragged her toward the potion workshop. They half ran towards it, there was no need for him to bring down the ward he had placed to bar Bella, they had already dissolved. 

By now there was shouting in the main atrium as his enemies poured in, chased by his own followers toward them. Voldemort flung the door open with his wand, everything had been left messy, all effort he had gone into with the stone laid bare before them, it felt like walking through a cemetery. A wasteland for ambition and effort. 

“Get the bag.”

He glanced around the rest of his work, if there was anything even worth salvaging. He of course collected the stone, the Ripley scroll, the dense Germanic textbook he was only half way through, the antique knife they found in Albania and a messy wad of scrap pieces of paper categorising his failures. 

“Here, it’s here!”

The relief in Bella’s voice could have almost matched his own. He saw her holding it up triumphantly when the doorway exploded into dust. A stray red spell burst through the debris to scorch the ceiling and Voldemort gathered the items he had collected. 

“Open the bag!”

Flustered she did as commanded, opening it up and allowing him to send the objects flying across the room to join the horcrux. In a split second he swirled his wand, a harsh wind blew up and the debris flew out of the room, down the corridor at a sheer cutting force to push back those advancing. 

He wanted to force them back into the waiting armed forces he had behind them, force them into retreating. 

“Fuck, they’re in there. He got Cyril.”

Even before the dust settled he recognised the voice as belonging to Sirius Black. Perhaps it was time he culled one of the last surviving branches of that family. 

A wave of energy burst forth through the doorway, it caught him unexpectedly and the protective spell he raised only absorbed the worst of the force. The benches were thrown back, half of them collapsed and Bellatrix was flattened to the ground. 

They poured in like ants, Dumbledore at the helm, he recognised Sirius Black, Randell and a number of others behind him. 

For a split second he saw the way Dumbledore’s eyes lingered over Bellatrix as she very slowly roused herself but the curses he sent distracted the older mans attention. 

“There is no need for all this destruction. Call off your forces, put an end to all these pointless deaths.”

Voldemort practically snarled at him, launching a vicious curse. 

The long potion table between them cracked and splintered down the middle, chunks of wood exploding around them but it was easily held back from the group crowding around the doorway. He could hear the distant sounds of a battle not far off as he realised his followers had reached the manor as well, wedging their enemies in. 

Though Dumbledore was rapid in dissipating the violent curses bombarding them, he had yet to really fight back. Voldemort hesitated a moment at this realisation. 

In that second of calm, Albus turned to Bellatrix who was now stood at the side of the room between the two of them. 

“Bellatrix.” 

He spoke in that grandfatherly voice of his, his piercing eyes hers as they stared at each other for a moment at an impasse. To Voldemort there seemed to be something unspoken passing between them, as if he was somehow hypnotising her. He saw her take a tiny step forward, stumbling as if trying to resist. 

“Bella!”

Her head snapped around to face him, the spell broken as she recognised the commanding tone of her master. She didn’t return a step back but stayed in place frozen. He stared at her, his gaze a silent command to return to her rightful spot at his side. 

In her distraction she didn’t see Frank Longbottom, who must have been hiding at the back of the group, launch forward toward her. Before Voldemort could so much as whisper a curse, the other man had grabbed her around the waist. 

She shrieked as she was lifted off the ground and dragged backwards, kicking and scratching as she tried to free herself. Despite himself, he seemed to fumble with his wand, something he would never have thought possible. In those few moments, when it mattered most, he was wracked by indecision. To act out in any violent way would ensure she would be hurt, there was no doubt Bellatrix would be caught in crossfire. There was no way he could allow her, with all his secrets to be simply snatched away, in such a typical and simple muggle fashion. Not when she carried his horcrux. Not when he couldn’t be sure that they wouldn’t just be able to simply apparate away out of his sight forever.

The small crowd seemed to part for a moment, to allow for her to be swallowed up from his view by them all as she continued to screech bloody murder. 

The surge of panic returned to him and in that moment, a sense of clarity struck him, he would allow no one to interfere in the fate of Bella except himself, in this matter he could only be certain.

Even as he struck out at Dumbledore, the older man expecting such a violent outburst at such a slight, his mind broke out, an invisible spectre searching through the crowd. He knew her well, could sense her without entering her mind, the near overwhelming sadness, the confusion and fear. He pushed on, it was not her he was looking for. 

Beside her, he ripped into the mind of the man clutching onto her for dear life despite her violent struggles. With as much destruction as he dared wrought, he fractured all thoughts, any motivations or tenuous connections that would have led him to the decision to try and carry her off. It pulled the man’s mind apart at the seams and all of a sudden there was a give and he knew it had worked.

A shriek was carried in the air and for a moment the small crowd parted enough for him to see that Bellatrix had hit the man in the ankle with a bone breaking curse. She had been promptly dropped, with little attempt to grab her by the man previously clutching her. They seemed more cautious now, except of course for Sirius Black. He wasted no time, reaching out to try and clasp her arm. 

“Bellatrix, without him you could be free, we are so close.”

As soon as he raised his hand, he was launched away from her by the Dark Lord’s curse, propelled across the room and whacking against the cupboards along the wall. 

There was hesitation for a split moment for which Bellatrix was able to clamour through the parting, diving through them to stumble onto the ground between them, her hands slapping noisily as she landed. She raised her wand in alarm, first at him before turning it on his enemies. 

Her hand faltered at the reluctance to engage and he used that opportunity to grab her arm, wrenching her to her feet and throwing her behind him. 

He hated the look he was met with, that curious, knowing gaze of Dumbledore’s. 

“Put an end to this Tom.” He seemed to consider his next words very carefully. “There are many who believe you are beyond any kind of redemption. Perhaps I should count myself among them, I certainly used to.”

He took the smallest step forward. 

“Now, I wonder if there is hope. I think you understand this too. Despite everything you have done, what you believe and the cruelty you have committed to convince yourself otherwise, there is a flicker of humanity there. You have tipped your hand, I pray that you don’t deny yourself this final chance.”

The raging fire within him flared at the presumptuousness, that feeling that Dumbledore was so sure he knew him. That he thought he understood his motivations. 

But he was wrong. There was no humanity in him, he did not fall prey to the same weaknesses that haunted others, that crippled them. 

“You are a fool to think you could ever reason with me, try to bend me to your will. I will destroy your allies and wreak havoc on your world.”

“All the mutilations you have done to yourself, they could be undone if you would only allow yourself to appreciate and feel the weight of the grievous actions you have carried out.”

The Dark Lord wouldn’t listen to it any more, he raised his wand, a blast of magic streaming out toward his enemies. Anticipating such a reaction, Dumbledore moved with the reflexes of a much younger, skilled wizard. Their spells collided with a sickening crash, the manor struggling to contain such magic as the room lurched. The ceiling cracked, sections of it collapsing as the doorway almost closed over completely. The ground below them splintered, the wooden floorboards shattering as huge cavernous cracks opened up, He saw a few of the Order, including Sirius Black fall threw them. 

A screech from beside him distracted his attention for a moment and he realised that Bellatrix had vanished beside him, swallowed up along with one of the potions tables. 

His chest lurched uncomfortably, the desire to retrieve her almost overwhelming but he was still engaged in battle with the headmaster. The only benefit seemed to be that it had forced back a number of the Order, towards the direction of his own attacking followers. 

If he could only disable Dumbledore somehow, if he could only get rid of him for just a moment, it would give him the opportunity he needed to get Bellatrix and tip everything in their favour. 

Despite the vicious and dark magic launched at him, the headmaster was holding his ground well, oblivious to the rest of the destruction going on around them. 

It was a test of stamina and skill, he enjoyed using his advanced repertoire of extremely dark magic, spells he would otherwise have no need to use, if only the stakes weren’t so high. 

And in that brief second, his attention wavered. He let out a near silent screech at the tightness that crushed at his chest for a moment before it relieved, a feeling of something being irrevocably broken. The accompanying, suffocating emptiness was distressingly familiar to him now as he realised his last horcrux was gone. 

The horcrux that had been with Bellatrix. 

But he was sure nothing could have happened to her. He was certain he would know, there would be some sign just as with the destruction of his horcrux. 

Nevertheless he would not take a chance. The near debilitating awareness of his own mortality was panicking him, it was difficult to make any sensible kind of plan, the urge to flee immediately overwhelming but he knew he would not leave Bella. However they had managed to get the horcrux from her, to destroy it, meant that she was likely in significant danger. 

He could not allow her to be killed, to have his enemies snatch her away and torture her for information. He would find her and they would abandon this mess to gather themselves and make extra precautions. 

Dumbledore, perhaps sensing the shift and understanding the implications, raised his wand defensively.  Thrumming with magic, the sense of his own fragility somehow enhancing the power and viciousness behind the curse. A burst of fiendfyre exploded outward, consuming everything in its path. Within seconds the potion room was engulfed in flames and thick plumes of smoke. 

He was sure that Dumbledore would be easily capable of protecting himself from such a threat but the distraction was enough. 

Voldemort walked to the large gapping hole in the ground, the one he was sure Bellatrix had fallen through and dropped down. He landed gracefully, a spell softening his landing as he orientated himself. 

It was dim, the smoke that was escaping down making everything hazy in the poor light. He noticed specks of blood among the shattered remains of the potions work table. He was in a dusty old suite in the basement, just off the large dungeons and huge wine cellar. He had never been too curious about the need for such rooms but decided it was likely a separate cell for those too worthy for the rest of the dungeons. Those who would be kept for extended periods of time and perhaps needed a small amount of comfort. 

He could hear arguing voices and followed after them as noises from above reverberated through the manor. 

“Well what do we do with her now?” He was sure the voice was from Black. 

“I say we torture her, she has information we need, we can’t trust her otherwise. She could be feeding us all sorts of lies.”

A firm voice broke through. “No, we will not stoop to that. No matter what, we cannot act the way they do.”

“Surely we can trust her now, after everything?” 

It seemed as though Sirius was almost defending his estranged cousin but Voldemort would listen to no more. 

He stepped up to the open doorway, taking in the scene for moment in the half lit dungeons. Bellatrix was bound, propped up against the stone wall with a piece of material covering her mouth. She had such an intense look of fury on her face as she listened to the men above her decide her fate. 

The bag was laid by her feet, a number of the objects inside had spilled out as someone had clearly had a rummage around. 

Sirius was watching her, a distinct look of confusion on his blood splattered face. Beside him was another man, Bercow perhaps, a gaping wound on the back of his left shoulder leaking blood but otherwise intact. It was this man who was staring at her with contempt and mistrust, it was no surprise that he was the one so keen for torture. 

Behind the other two men, nervous and fearful was a raggedy appearing man. Voldemort was sure he had seen him before in the company of Greyback but couldn’t be sure. Perhaps he was a werewolf. 

As soon as his shadow filled the doorway they all froze, turning to face him. 

“It’s him!”

A number of relatively harmless hexes were sent his way but he batted them away with ease. A vicious curse was sent towards the man who had been threatening torture, it made contact with his left hand and horrific black ink like poison spread up his arm. The man screamed in horror and pain, collapsing down onto his knees. If he had any sense, he would amputate the arm immediately before it spread to his heart. 

The werewolf was hurtled across the room in the second, a nasty crack when he hit the stone wall although Voldemort suspected he was not dead. 

Sirius yelled in rage, a spell on his lips as he was hit with the cruciatus curse. He shrieked wildly as he fell to the floor, the unbearable pain too much as he rolled around. 

Bellatrix seemed hypnotised by the display, watching her cousin writhing on the ground in agony. She barely reacted when he approached, grabbing her by the neck of her dress and hauling her to her feet, the bonds holding her melting away. 

She pulled away the tie around her mouth but anything she wanted to say was cut short as the house shuddered again with a loud bang. He was certain that Dumbledore was on his way down to the basement. 

There was a large graze across her left cheek, the blood already starting to congeal. She flinched as he raised his wand to it but he merely healed it for her. His hand touched the soft, impeccable skin that had been left behind, taking a moment for this little indulgence. There would likely be no further time for this. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a lone tear rolling down her cheek and he brushed it away before stepping back. 

The smoke from above had settled but he couldn’t be sure if it was just that it couldn’t penetrate that deep or if the fire had been brought under control. 

“Come we need to leave now.”

He grasped her hand after she bent to gather her bag and a few of the items. It was only then that he realised that the anti-apparition wards in the basement had somehow managed to hold despite everything. Clearly the Lestrange family had taken much more care to create the most impenetrable wards on their dungeons. 

“Fuck. Come on.”

He yanked her along with him as he tried to navigate his way through the darkened labyrinth. She seemed to resist him at times, perhaps sensing that he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going. 

They rounded a corner and he realised he had brought them to a dead end, the maze was deliberately laid out so that if anyone had managed to escape their prison, they would still never be able to get out. 

“Shit.” 

He paced for a moment, panic making it difficult to come up with any kind of coherent plan. Bellatrix just stood there watching him, as if she accepted their fate. He could attempt to break down the wards, he knew he would be able to do it but wasn’t sure he would have the time for such things. The extensive use of magic would be exhausting and he didn’t want to be found trapped in a dead end. The sense that he was so vulnerable, that he could be killed so easily made the confidence in his own abilities crack under pressure. 

“Come on, move.”

He shook her by the arms to try and revive her a little before dragging her back the way they had come. 

As they rounded the corner again he could hear voices. They had all come down to chase them out like rats. He headed a different way, away from the voices, and the dim stone corridor opened out into a kind of small atrium. 

Unfortunately they were not the only ones there. Moody, Dumbledore, Black and few others he didn’t even know the names of had reached the opposite opening at the same time. 

“Enough of this, Tom.”

“Fuck this.” Ignoring the headmaster, Moody raised his wand with a curse sent toward the pair of them. 

It was Bellatrix who deflected it as it soared towards her. 

“Enough Alastor.” Albus raised his hand in front of his friend but the other man wasn’t having it. 

“No it’s not enough. The bastard is finally mortal, you said it yourself. Now is the time to end this war. Now is the time we can finally kill him.”

There was a beat of silence as Dumbledore stared at them for a moment with that penetrating gaze as if waiting for something to give.  

“Ergh, you have always been so reluctant to put an end to someone who will never reform, someone beyond any kind of redemption. We will kill him now. Sacrificing one would be be better than the slaughter of many, even you couldn’t deny this. Not for someone so purely evil.”

The others nodded enthusiastically, this knowledge of the Dark Lord’s mortality seemed to have filled them with confidence. 

And then it started. The dark room lit up as all manner of colourful hexes and curses were flung between them. The room filled with dust as the stone walls were scorched by the powerful magic colliding with them. 

Voldemort, fully aware of how close to death he potentially was, fought Moody and Dumbledore along with a handful of others. The only good thing was the compact size of the room prevented proper warfare tactics, he was sure in a battle of sheer power he would win.  

Bellatrix managed to hold back her cousin and another one of those men. Despite being out numbered, he knew their power and skill combined would be enough to get them out of this situation. 

He caught Moody in his wand hand with a random slicing curse, surprised it hit its mark and noticed what seemed to be a couple of fingers drop off. 

The man screamed and there was a short reprieve in spell fire. His attention was distracted when he heard a scream from behind and saw Bella falling back in the corner of his eye. 

Taking his moment, he turned to her, worried she wouldn’t be getting back up again. 

Voldemort knew it was foolish, he shouldn’t be turning his back on his enemies, not even for a second. Not even to make sure Bellatrix was still alive. He should have expected it really. 

When he whirled around to face her, he was hit, right over the heart. It felt as though he had been punched, the impact enough to wind him, even the idea of managing a breath seemed impossible. 

He was even more surprised when he saw that Bellatrix had returned to her feet, looking no worse for wear. She was looking at him, tears shining in her eyes and he wondered what had caused that. Such pity for him, such regret, his mind couldn’t connect it. 

As the coldness seemed to spread through him, he finally looked down. His blood chilled further as he saw it leaking profusely out of a hole in his chest over his heart. He looked up again in confusion at Bellatrix and finally noticed the knife she held in her hand, it was the ornate knife that they had brought back from Albania, the one that had belonged to Ravenclaw. His blood dripped off it onto the stone ground. As if realising what she had done, she dropped it with a gasp, her hand shaking violently as it clattered noisily onto the stone as blood splattered off of it. 

“ _Sacrificing one to save the rest_.”

His mind was becoming fuzzy as the blood leaked out of him but he just about heard her whispered words. Making simple connections was becoming difficult and the room seemed to be filled with a droning buzz. 

Fear gripped him as he realised with certainty that he was dying. There was nothing he could do to reverse such severe bodily damaged. He stumbled down towards the ground, unable to keep himself up anymore. 

His eyes locked onto Bellatrix, her eyes full of such emotion he was sure he could never even comprehend. 

It seemed unfathomable to him that he could ever have been tricked in such a way. His entire life he had avoided closeness with any other people, had been scathing and dismissive toward any kind of intimacy and he had always been certain that he would never fall victim to any kind of _love._

Though he was still sure, he couldn’t help feel he had become a victim of the same thing he had always mocked. No matter what he told himself, this woman had somehow wormed her way into his life, gained some sort of affection. He would never have endangered himself in such a way before, he never would have treated someone the way he had her. 

He had allowed her to get close to him, to intoxicate him and he had never even considered that she would betray him. His vision was starting to darken, his ultimate fear come to life and yet with the last bit if magic he had left, he entered her mind, he would rather use it in such a way than some futile attempt to heal himself. He knew he was beyond any kind of saving. 

For once she left her mind utterly open for him, directed him and let him see and feel everything. Things he had never bothered to look for, that she had been attempting to hide from him. He understood it all, every bit of it and he wondered how he hadn’t seen it all before. The damage he caused her, he knew it would be permanent but she was strong. He understood every decision she had made, the secrets she had hidden and the way she felt about him. He even saw his last horcrux, it's destruction and his final downfall all from her. 

He knew she wanted to move to him but her feet kept her rooted still. 

Though she had betrayed him, had murdered him, he couldn’t even find the smallest bit of anger within himself. Not for her. He was thankful she had given him that part of herself and tried to take any comfort in it as he faced his ultimate fear. He held onto this even as his vision failed him and he felt his heart coming to a stop. 

The Dark Lord had been so sure he was unable to love but he knew he had made many mistakes in his life. Perhaps she had been his greatest one. 


	31. Chapter 31

 

 

 

The morning sun speckled through the forest canopy as Isolde sat beneath a tree in deep concentration. She was almost finished the daisy chain she had been spending the morning making. She already had one decorating her own head. With great care she stuck the last bits together to create a second crown. 

Carefully, despite her excitement, she carried it in her two open hands back to her home. The old thatched cottage was small on the outside, one of the walls had pretty flowers and leaves growing up it and the entire thing seemed to sparkle bright white in the sunlight. It was almost idyllic. 

The door swung open for her as she reached it and she looked around the kitchen. The open kitchen joined the small living area and she couldn’t see her mother anywhere. 

“What do you have there?”

She smiled as she noticed Inish standing on the tall stool, leaning over a large pot on the cooker, stirring its contents. The wrinkled house-elf was watching her with curiosity and affection. Even though she was their house-elf, she was definitely part of the family. She wore a hand stitched thick cobalt blue pillow case with a yellow felt daffodil that they had made together sown onto the corner. 

Isolde didn’t know very much about house-elves apart from what Inish told her but her mother had once revealed that they were usually looked down on in old families. That they were expected to be hidden away and no one would ever treat one as a friend. In fact, some people were very mean to them. She found this difficult to believe knowing how kind their elf was but the sadness with which her mother told her this had convinced her. 

“I made a crown. I wanted to give it to Mum, where is she?”

The small elf set down the wooden spoon she was using, her face serious. “She is upstairs little one, she wasn’t feeling too well earlier.”

Isolde nodded quietly a little disappointed, she knew her mother was prone to such things.

The elf had hopped off her tall stool to stand before the young girl. “It’s very pretty, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

She kicked the ground in distraction for a moment, feeling bad that she was annoyed her mother wasn’t herself today. She had just wanted to surprise her. 

“Should I go up?”

Inish rubbed her forearm affectionately as she held the flowers. “Of course little one, if anyone can make her feel better, it’s you.”

She couldn’t help the slight smile that broke through on her face. “Really?”

The elf waved her hand dismissively at the question. “Yes really. You are the light in her life. The reason she pulls herself together every morning.” She moved closer to the young girl, near whispering as if sharing a secret. 

“You know why I came to your family?”

Isolde knew this already but she would never deny the elf the chance to tell her story again. It was her favourite story to share, it seemed to be the most exciting thing that had happened in her life.

“It was Dumbledore, the great man. I hadn’t been at Hogwarts very long when he specifically chose me for a special task. I didn’t know what that entailed when he first approached me. He told me that I had to look after someone special. That she needed help, that there would be a new baby and I had to make sure you were both safe. He was worried your mother would be overwhelmed, that you may need someone to make sure you weren’t harmed or neglected. That your mother would become more unwell. He didn’t tell me at the time I would be placed with a hero. I think he underestimated how much your mother would love you when she met you.”

Though she only understood half of it, it made her heart glow to hear her mother cared so much for her. Inish always had the greatest admiration for her mother. 

“You calm her down, remind her of where she is. Go on up, she will be happy to see what you have done for her.”

“Okay.” She nodded enthusiastically, thinking that perhaps she should have made something for Inish as well. 

She wandered up the stairs, taking a detour into the small reading room between their bedrooms. It was cosy, a lot of adult books of various topics lined the walls. It was bright as the light spilled in from the large bay window that looked out into the garden and forest beyond that. 

Her mother was sat at the small reading table, her back to the window as she stared down at the table. There was a closed book in front of her and a full, no doubt cold cup of tea that the elf had surely left for her. She was still dressed in a set of pyjamas, a thick old robe wrapped over her. 

“Mum.”

There was no response as she crept quietly into the room, cautious not to startle her. 

“Mother.”

Again she didn’t react, it was if she couldn’t hear her. 

Isolde moved closer still and placed the flowers on the table. She took her mother's hand and placed it on her head, allowing her still fingers to intertwine with her silky dark curls. Craning up, she whispered in her ear. 

Almost as though there had been a thunderclap, the woman sat bolt upright, her face drained of all colour as she heard her daughter whisper in that ancient tongue. It took her a second to look down, to notice Isolde and her fingers immediately wound into her hair, running through them, tense but careful not to hurt her. 

She knew the action almost seemed to soothe her mother, grounding her, as if by tethering her, to reassure her they were both real. It took a few seconds for her breathing to even out and her shoulders to relax back. 

“Look Mum, I brought you these.”

As she pointed toward them, her mother looked over, smiling proudly as she noticed the daisy chain. 

“Wow, this is pretty. You made this all yourself?”

“Yes, I did. Just for you.”

“I love it darling.”

She climbed onto her mother’s lap to place the flowers on her head. They sat perfectly, the tumultuous black curls holding it securely in place. 

As soon as it was in place, she hugged her mother. A pair of arms surrounded her, a soothing hand rubbing her back. Her mother smelt sweet and familiar, it was how she recognised home. The arms around her held on longer than she had been expecting but she didn’t mind. She stroked underneath the heavy black hair on the back of her mothers neck, there seemed to be something inherently fragile about her in that moment. 

Though she had always recognised that there was something a little wrong with her mother, despite little to compare her with, she sensed that she was damaged in some unfathomable way that Isolde knew she would probably never understand. 

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

They broke apart and her mother had started stroking her cheek affectionately, in a way that would embarrass her if someone else were around but she secretly enjoyed. 

“Of course, Mum, I love you too.”

“And you know what special day it is tomorrow?”

She tapped her nose gently in question. Isolde needed no reminders. 

“It’s my birthday!”

“Yes, it is.”

“And I’m going to be six and everyone is coming to my party tomorrow. Except Uncle Snape.”

Snape wasn’t able to come to the party, although Isolde would have struggled to imagine him at such an event anyway, so he had promised to bring a present today. 

It was going to be the first party she had ever had and everyone she knew was invited. Though that was not many people, she was excited that everyone would come at once. Mostly, she was excited to see her cousin. Dora was the only girl her age that she knew and she thought she was pretty cool. 

Everyone else they knew were adults, family friends and people her mother had known from the war. Her mother didn’t like to have many people around, there weren’t many chances to meet new people so she was always grateful to see her cousin. It was her chance to play with someone, to learn more things about the rest of the wizarding and muggle worlds. Dora was very knowledgable about all sorts of things that her mother or Inish would never tell her about.  

Isolde was grateful for the contact she had with her very small extended family. She knew that her mother had other relatives. One of her sisters was killed in the war, Dora’s mother but she had another sister that she didn’t speak to. She had come to visit her mother before, to ask for help for her husband, whom she later found out was in prison. Her mother had been very angry and the blonde woman had never returned. 

She only remembered one other family member visiting. He was a cousin, a scruffy older man that seemed restless and irritated the entire visit. Though Isolde was very young at the time, she remembered how uncomfortable the meeting was. The older man wouldn’t acknowledge her at all, the discussion had been tense and by the end her mother was furious and in tears. When she had gathered her up in her arms, the other man had been disturbed as he finally set his gaze on the young girl. 

There had been a few slammed doors and he was out of the house, her was mother near hysterical and Inish had to lead her up to her bedroom and dose her with a potion to soothe her. Isolde had curled up to her heavy, lethargic body, her mother trying to run her fumbling hands through her soft curls. 

That man had never returned and her mother had never brought him up again. 

“Come on darling, Severus will be here soon for lunch. You should get changed, you want to wear the nice dress we got?”

“Yes, I want to keep the pink one for tomorrow. He will like the green one, that is his colours.”

She gave a quick chuckle. “Well that or black.”

“Can I go back outside for a little while first? Before I get dressed, otherwise my dress will get dirty.”

She seemed to pause for a long moment in consideration before finally relenting. “I suppose, but not for long. Go on.”

Isolde jumped off her lap, giggling as she ran back down the stairs, whipping through the kitchen past their elf in a flash to be outside again. 

She ran towards the north end of the garden where the small collections of mushrooms sat on the darkened edge of the forest. She slowed her pace right down as she approached. Sometimes around this time, if she was lucky, she was able to catch a glimpse of the pixies as they played around. She hadn’t ever been able to get close to them, she was always too noisy and as soon as they sensed her presence would vanish off into the forest. 

It seemed she was in luck today. 

From the top of the little dip leading to the cluster of large mushrooms she saw a single pixy flitting around. It was distracted as it zipped from mushroom to mushroom and Isolde was desperate to get a little closer. She had heard them squeaking to each other when they were together and she always wanted to try and interact with them. 

In her desire to get closer to it, she slipped on the damp grass sliding down the shallow bank toward the pixy. As soon as it noticed her it flew off at speed. It was the closest she had come to one and without thinking she took off after it towards the small stream slightly further into the forest. 

She stumbled as she reached the stream, just about able to stop herself from falling in, losing track of the pixy in the meantime. Looking around to see if she catch sight of it again, she realised she had come further from the cottage than she had meant. She hadn’t even felt herself passing the wards but she was sure she was no longer protected by them. 

This was confirmed as she suddenly saw someone step out from behind a nearby tree. It was a woman, someone she had never seen before, dressing in dark muted robes. From the look of the state of her robes, to looked like she had been hiding out in the forest for some time.

“Hello little darling.”

Isolde shuffled back a little cautiously. Her mother had always warned her about strangers, how some of them would hurt her if they got a chance. This woman didn’t look particularly evil but she was wary all the same. 

“What’s your name little girl?”

She shook her head. “My Mum told me not to talk to strangers. I better go.”

She tried to climb up to her feet, her hands slipping a little on the wet grass. The other woman grinned chirpily, stepping slightly closer. 

“You don’t have to worry about that. I know all about your mummy, Bellatrix isn’t it?”

Nodding in confusion, she looked around, hoping she could see some easy way to escape. 

“And what about your Daddy?”

Frowning, she opened her mouth for a moment frozen in silence. “I don’t…”

“Is your house around here?”

“I can’t say.”

“You know that your mother is a big hero, everyone wants to know more about her.” The older woman stepped closer again. “My job is to write and share information with witches and wizards all over the country. I let them know about important things and people that they want to know about.”

As the woman approached, Isolde finally got some purchase and clambered to her feet. 

“I don’t think I should be talking to you.”

She turned to run back to the house but had underestimated how close the woman had got to her. A bony hand grasped tightly around her upper arm, preventing her escape. 

She gave a shriek as she suddenly realised the danger is was in, she had no strength to pull away from the clawing hand. Glancing back, she saw the other woman fumbling to pull out her wand and began screaming in earnest. 

At that moment relief flooded through her as she saw the tall, furious shadow of her mother standing above them. She looked like some kind of furious Valkyrie, her hair wild and her wand ready in her hand. The fear this image created caused the other woman to release her as she tried to urgently pull out her wand. 

Isolde fell forward when she was released, trying to crawl in the direction of her mother. 

“Look, I just wanted to-”

“Do not touch my daughter. Do not talk to my daughter.”

Her voice was like steel, enough to scare even Isolde. 

“I only wanted-”

“How dare you trespass onto my property, to threaten my daughter.” 

She raised her wand, her eyes seemed to glow in her rage as a flume of vicious fire burst forth to scorch the earth where the stranger had been only moments before. The blaze spread around as the other witch tried to run from it, using her wand to put it out to no avail. Somehow she managed to run herself around in a circle, the flames closing in around her. 

“Please, I’m sorry…”

“How did you find us?”

“I…I-“

The woman mumbled terror alive in her eyes as she seemed to realise the unforgiving nature of the woman she had dared cross. 

“Please, it’s closing in on me.”

“Who else knows you are here?”

The stranger shrieked in terror as the flames started to lick at her feet. “No one, no one I swear.”

“Then how did you find us?”

“There, there were some rumours from Azkaban. They had been around for a while, no one paid them much attention but I realised that you had family there. I met Malfoy, I thought there may have been something behind the rumours.”

She was wheezing now as she tried to stamp out the flames licking at the bottom of her robes. 

“He told you?”

Isolde had climbed behind her mother now, grasped onto her mothers long skirt as she watched her mothers terrifying interrogation.  

“No, well he didn’t know exactly. He knew it was up in Scotland, Dumbledore had helped you find the perfect place within a forest for maximum privacy. I assumed you would have wards protecting you but you would have to come out eventually.”

She felt her mother’s gaze flick down toward her for a moment before she continued. “How long have you been here?”

“Months. It was even longer until I found myself here, I was sure I saw a little girl here, I was certain it was the right place so I waited it out.”

The energy around her mother seemed to vibrate, furious and vengeful. For the first time Isolde really understood why her mother was considered a hero, why she was so admired and how she had survived a lot of the things that she had overheard about. It had always been difficult for her to reconcile the stories her mother told her with the woman whom she loved dearly but had crumbled in fear at the most benign seeming things. 

“Please don’t kill me!”

“I am not going to kill you, I will have to wipe every last thing from your mind, everything.”

She raised her wand with determination. “Obliv-”

“Expelliarmus!”

The wand in her mothers hand flew behind them, when Isolde spun around she saw Professor Snape standing there looking very bemused. 

“What is going on?”

“Help me!” 

“Give me back my wand.” Her mother practically stamped her foot in her anger. 

With a wave of his wand he suppressed the fires around them, stunning the stranger before she could make any plan of escape. 

“Get inside, both of you.”

Isolde wanted to go back into the house but she was reluctant to leave her mother. She could feel the tension in her mothers body as she held onto her. 

“We need to sort her out, she knows how to find us, she threatened Isolde. I cannot have anyone else find us, you know what would happen.” 

The rage seemed to slip away and she was nearly tearful as she spoke erratically to him. 

“Please, I need to fix this.”

“Bella, take her inside, I’ll obliviate her.”

He pointed to Isolde as it seemed her mother had forgotten she was practically attached to her as she hugged her close for a moment. She nodded gratefully towards Snape before taking her hand and leading her into their cottage. 

They walked in silence and it was only when they were safely inside did her mother speak. Inish watched cautiously from her spot at the hob, no doubt aware of what had happened. 

“Isolde Regina Black, what were you thinking?” Her mother had crouched in front of her, both hands firmly held on her shoulders as the young girl squirmed under such an intense gaze. 

“How could you be so stupid? You went outside the wards, how many times have I warned you of how dangerous things out there could be for us?”

She could feel tears prick up in her eyes, she hated upsetting her mother, she hated disappointing her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know, I know honey.” She felt better as she mother brushed her curls back from her face, wiping away a couple of the tears that had fallen before wrapping her in a tight hug. “I just love you so much, I never want anything to hurt you.”

Her mother took a moment to collect herself before continuing. “You are too young to understand this but not everyone in the world is nice. I have told you about some of the terrible people out there, they wouldn’t care that you were only a child. I never want you to have to know what it would be like to be hurt in such a way.”

It scared her when she heard her mother talk like this. She knew that bad things had happened to her during the war, from the stories she told her, the nightmares she had, the conversations that had been overheard and some of the unusual things that Dora told her. 

The door opened then, Snape stepping inside, his manner cool. 

Her mother stood up straight, staring at him for a moment, it was unclear how she was going to react to his interference. 

“It’s done?”

He nodded, pulling off his robes and hanging them on the rack by the door. “It has been sorted out, you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

She let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

Moving to the table, she leaned heavily on it for one moment before collecting herself. “Come, sit.” 

Pulling out a chair, she indicated for their guest to sit down. It was only then that Isolde realised she hadn’t even had a chance to change into her special dress. 

“Mother, can I put on my dress?”

“Go on but hurry up, food is being served any second now.”

She ran as fast as she could up the stairs, glad to see Inish had left it sitting on her bed neatly. It took her no time at all to pull the green dress on, she took only a moment to admire how it looked on her. She knew her mother would be waiting impatiently so she headed back down, stopping on the stairs when she heard talking. 

“Don’t worry, it was only one person, they were operating alone.”

“That is not the point though. It terrifies me that someone might find us, that someone has found us, that they would do something to her. She is only a child, she doesn’t always understand boundaries. I don’t want to scare her but even though there are only rumours about her, there are still a lot of people that would be willing to kill her.”

“It is the curiosity around your entire situation that has everyone chasing after you.”

“And what, you think I should have just told everyone the truth? My own family can’t even bear to be around her and they only suspect.”

“Bella, I will talk to Dumbledore, he can help with your security.”

She gave a heavy sigh, brushing him off. “It’s fine. He is coming tomorrow to pop in to see us, I will talk to him then.”

“You know he is going to talk to you about the Order of Merlin thing as well, don’t you?”

“What’s this? I haven’t heard anything?”

“That’s because you asked Dumbledore to bar any ministry owls finding or reaching you. They are doing some sort of anniversary celebration related to all those who were awarded an Order of Merlin - including you, I think they have been trying to bombard you with invitations but obviously haven’t been able to contact you. Hence, Dumbledore getting involved.”

“Why is he getting stuck in the middle of this, I thought I made it pretty clear before I wanted nothing to do with any of it. I only even took the money in the first place because he convinced me, for her. I don’t understand how they can celebrate giving me an award for killing a person. Dumbledore should know better. ”

“Oh, you know Albus. He always gets worried about people he feels are isolating themselves too much, he has always thought it was rather dangerous.”

Isolde could practically hear her mother rolling her eyes at that. Although Dumbledore did a lot to look after them and Isolde thought he was rather brilliant, she was well aware her mother didn’t always see eye to eye with him. 

Deciding she had waited long enough and she was getting rather hungry, she clambered noisily down the stairs. 

“I’m ready.”

“Wow, look at you, you look lovely.”

Her mother pulled out the chair beside her, for her to climb up but before she did, she gave a little shy bow to Snape. He didn’t remark on her dress but gave a short smile. He wasn’t friendly to her the way Dumbledore or Dora’s dad was but she knew he liked her. She found him rather intimidating at times but she liked the way he came to visit. He was always content to carry on adult conversations when she was around, she sensed he didn’t know how to talk to children. 

Three plates of roast dinner were sent in front of them by Inish. The older elf usually joined them at the table except when there was company, she thought this was improper and despite their objection, she never gave in. 

“This looks lovely. Thanks.”

They ate in silence for a while as she watched their guest. Eventually she worked up enough courage to start the conversation. 

“How is the school?”

He shrugged as he ate. “New year, new students. All as idiotic as could be expected, I always hate this time of year, breaking them all in.”

She giggled a little at his dark cynicism. He always seemed so grumpy but she knew he couldn’t really always be like that. He never told her very much about the school compared to the headmaster. She suspected it was because he didn’t want her to get too excited about it, her mother had already warned her she would not be going, despite Dumbledore’s protests. 

They had been seeing a lot of him over the summer, more than usual, at least once a fortnight but she knew that would slow down a lot now that he was back at school. 

“At least you will be getting a lot more decent food.”

He nodded at her mother in agreement, they seemed to like to reminisce about their own time at the school which only made her more upset that she was unlikely to get to experience that. 

“What are you doing for your birthday tomorrow? I heard you were having a party?”

“Yes, I am and everyone is coming. Except you, because you are here today. We are going to have games and I’ll wear my other new dress and Dora promised they would bring me a present.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. In fact, I forgot to say anything but I brought you a little present as well.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she looked to her mother for confirmation. 

“Really, I get a present today as well?”

“Well as Severus can’t come tomorrow, I think it would be only fair to let you have it today, after you’ve finished of course.”

At that she practically threw her food into her, she was far too impatient to wait.

“Calm down, you’ll choke if you’re not careful.”

“Nmpphh.” Her words completely obscured by the food she had stuffed into her mouth. 

After what seemed like far too long for her, she polished off the last of the food on her plate, including the peas which she really didn’t like. 

“See I’m done now.”

Both adults smiled in amusement at her antics, particularly her mother who shook her head teasingly.

“You’re finished but poor Severus isn’t. You can’t have him interrupt his meal just to get your present, you’ll just have to wait and hope you don’t get indigestion.”

She was about to complain but realised it would be futile. 

“It’s alright, it’s only a small thing. I have it right here.”

He pulled out a small, brightly wrapped present and handed it over to her. She took it in her hands, admiring the exact neatness of the wrapping, not the usual hodgepodge her mother made. 

With bated breath she pulled it open, it was a light wooden box. As she slid the top off, a large red and yellow balloon grew out of it and floated into the air. It was a magical small air balloon and when she looked into the bottom of the box, there were a number of small tin characters. 

“Wow.”

Her mother laughed gently as they all watched the balloon floating before her. 

“That’s great.”

Snape rubbed his face uncomfortably. “The magic in it will let you float your other toys around as you wish. I don’t now what kids like, I thought you mind find some use for it.”

“It’s amazing.”

She really meant it too. She had only ever managed magic herself twice, neither time she remembered well due to her young age at the time and she didn’t have anything magically animated of her own. 

“That was very kind of you Severus, you didn’t need to go to such effort.”

She knew he was about to brush the remark aside, appearing embarrassed enough as it was but she didn’t give him the chance as she jumped up onto his lap and hugged him. 

“Thank you, it’s the best present so far.”

He gave a gruff laugh as with hesitation he patted her lightly on the back. 

“So far?” 

When she pulled back and climbed down off him, he looked to her mother in amusement. “I always forget how honest children can be.”

Her mother gave a long suffering sigh. “You don’t need to remind me.” Turning to Isolde, she continued. “Why don’t you see what you can do with that while we finish eating.” Perhaps noticing the gleam in her daughters eye, she specified. “Inside the house.”

Not needing to be told twice, Isolde pulled it over to the small living area. Sitting down with her back against the sofa, she investigated the figurines in the box as the adults continued to talk in low voices. 

“So how have you been then? Really?”

Her mother paused for a moment, pushing around the mug of tea that had been set in front of her. 

“Ok, really. I didn’t have a great night last night.”

“Nightmares?”

She nodded mutely before speaking up, her voice lower. “It was like I was back there, back like it was, _he_ was there.”

He sighed heavily, the same thing he usually did when her mother started talking like this. This type of conversation always intrigued Isolde and she distractedly fidgeted with one of the toys as she tried to subtly listen in. Most of the really interesting things she learnt of the past or the rest of the wizarding world was from eavesdropping on such adult conversations. 

“You haven’t been taking the potion, have you?”

With an expression Isolde was sure she made when her mother caught her out, her mother shook her head. “No, but, I ran out, I didn’t want to bother you and I had been using less and less. You know I don’t like taking things like that for extended periods of time.”

“Bella, you should have let me know. You know we always have extra supplies of such potions at the school and it wouldn’t have taken long to brew more. It is better for you to take it, the risk of taking these potions even in the longterm are mild in comparison to the effect not taking them clearly has on you.” 

When Isolde chanced to watch them, she noticed he had reached out to her mothers hand to press it lightly. Despite his awkwardness and her mothers determination to ignore such things, she had glanced up for a split second to give him a pleasant yet resigned smile. 

“I don’t like you to think on those things, the experiences. It consumes you.”

Her hand was pulled away and Isolde returned her attention to her new present, still half listening in. 

“I-just. I always feel such guilt, about how I felt and how everything came about. It shouldn’t have happened the way it did.” 

“You’re right. It was never planned to go that way and it never should have. In all the plans we made, we never intended to place you in such a compromising position, we never meant to force your hand.”

Her voice was tight with repressed rage as she snapped back. “But that’s what did happen. How was it supposed to happen then exactly? You left me alone with Sirius, it was his pressure, I had no other choice. He told me I had to be the one to destroy it, it was up to me to act otherwise I was an accomplice, I was culpable for what happened to Regulus. All that time I had been made to think I was being hunted, that I was a guilty as well as his prisoner with a guaranteed death sentence. Sirius convinced me, you all convinced me that the only way I could ever survive was to do what I did. I had never wanted anything to do with that war, I only gave you information because I wanted to live. And I know, I know that it wasn’t just my survival, I had given up on that but the entire war, all those people that would otherwise be killed, could be saved by only one action.” 

Isolde stopped and looked over as she heard a unnerving strangled sob from her mother. She had her hand over her mouth for a moment before whispering harshly. 

“And I felt, I cared for him. That was the most ridiculous thing. Despite the horrific cruelty, there was a human being in there, someone who had the potential, the capacity to care.”

Snape gave a disbelieving grunt. 

“Don’t - I’ve heard all of Dumbledore’s ideas before. His stupid muggle psychobabble theories about him and about myself.”

“You can’t rationalise what happened, his motivations or your relationship.”

“That is exactly what I have to do. It’s the only way I can move on, how I justify what happened, and how I convince myself I can get through each and everyday. God, it’s been years.”

“Bella…”

Her mother sat back in her seat, wiping the stray tears that had begun to fall. 

“Don’t. I’m just tired, it’s making everything feel a bit raw.”

He stood slowly, making his way around to her. With stiff movements he wrapped his arms around her and let her relax as her tears slowed. 

“Despite what Dumbledore says, you and I both know he would never really have changed. Every seemingly kind action was followed by more abuse, by further rage. He manipulated you, played with your emotions and confused you. It’s no surprise you had no idea how to feel.”

She just sniffled in response. 

“Look, I know you said no before, but maybe you should consider getting help from Dumbledore. I know he has offered a few times, I mean just talking to him, going through some of your memories together in a safe way, it could help things.”

“I don’t think so, I could hardly think of anyone I would less like to share such things with, he would never understand. I could never tell him how I felt, or the things that happened.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You know about Grindelwald?"

Her mother frowned, twisting to look at Snape who was still standing half over her. “Yeah, of course. The dark wizard, Dumbledore defeated in duel.”

“Well, you probably weren’t aware, they had been friends, before all this. When they were very young, they had been allies then. It’s not a particularly well kept secret, it seems the media were only ever interested in the headline news regarding the pair of them.”

He paused for a moment. “As far as I know, they had been very close. I can’t say for certain but I would certainly wager it was one of the main reasons he delayed acting against him in the first place. That and I’m sure he was praying Grindelwald would just snap out of it and see the error of his ways.”

A rather watery smile was given in response from her mother. 

“Just think about it alright.”

He rubbed her arm lightly for moment to comfort her, which seemed to work as her mother brushed away the last of her tears and took a bracing deep breath. He left and returned to his own side of the table to give her a moment to collect herself. 

By now Isolde had stopped any pretence of playing as she watched them. She liked the companionship that Snape offered for her mother. She didn’t have many friends and it seemed they had some strange intimacy. 

She remembered she had once asked them about this. Not exactly that. She had in fact enquired if Snape was her father.

This had elicited a hilarious reaction. He had been absolutely mortified, a reaction mirrored by her mother who ended up laughing hysterically as she realised the absurdity of the question. 

At the time she had been satisfied by the explanation that she had been given. She knew that her father was dead, that he was a bad man who had been mean to her mother. Her mother had promised she would tell her more when she was older but at that time, when she had seen them interacting so well, a part of her had wished that could have been true. 

“Let’s forget it, we shouldn’t be talking about such things when it is meant to be a celebration. I’ll give Albus some potions to bring for you tomorrow, send a dose for you tonight as well.”

“You’re right. Forget it.”

There was silence for a moment from the two of them, the only sound interrupting it was their cutlery as they played with the food in front of them. 

“I saw your sister the other day, down in Diagon Alley.”

“Really?”

Though her mother sounded disinterested, Isolde knew she must be as curious as she was to hear about her relative.

“She wasn’t looking too happy, I don’t think she’s used to it, I don’t think she gets out and about much anymore.”

“Hmm, poor thing.”

Snape tried to hide his smirk as he raised his cup to his lips. 

“Well I heard Lucius was due for release next month.”

“So I saw in the Prophet, it was going to happen eventually.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

She shrugged heavily. “You know he was never charged with anything really serious, in his position of power and wealth, it was fortunate he had any sort of punishment at all. A few others have already been released.”

“Alright.”

Sighing, she continued. “I know what you are trying to do. I know you want me to say I’m scared, that I worry that all those I testified against will decide to come after me. I don’t know how that would make any difference. I’m scared of anyone finding us, the good guys, the bad guys, it’s all the same to me. That’s why…”

She trailed off for a moment as she looked over at Isolde, as if remembering she was there. “We live here. It is our haven and I won’t let anyone ruin it.”

Snape rested his hand over her mothers for a brief moment before awkwardly clearing his throat, his hand pulling away eagerly and he pushed his now empty dishes away from him. 

Her mother, a little frazzled, starting piling all their dishes together, standing with as much as she could carry and placing them by the sink. 

“Where is your elf?”

Snape asked this whilst carrying his plate over, confused as her mother started filling the sink with bubbles. She chucked the dishes in as she responded, wiping her hair back from her forehead and leaving a trail of suds behind. Their guest was far too polite to comment. 

“She’s outside, tending the vegetable and herb patches, she enjoys gardening.”

He hovered beside her at the sink, obviously still mystified. “So you do the washing up?”

“And I enjoy doing this. It keeps my hands busy, all three of us live here, we all do our own bit to keep the house going, not leaving everything down to only one of us.”

“But you don’t even use magic for it, surely you can find something better to do with your hands.”

Isolde ran over to them as they seem to glance at each other momentarily, giggling as she saw the suds still on her mother’s forehead. Her mother smiled in amusement as she clambered up onto the counter top beside the sink.

“And what are you laughing at missy?”

“You’ve got bubbles all over your head.”

Despite herself, her cheeks pinked as she wiped it away. 

“I don’t think I’m the only one!”

She whipped her hand out of the water, splashing her all over with water and bubbles. Isolde shrieked in surprise before dipping her hands in and soaking her back. They fought back and forth for a few moments, both nearly drenched before Isolde gave up, jumping off the counter. 

She flicked the last of the water on her hands at her mother, unprepared for her mother when she turned around. Even without her wand, she somehow managed to summon a cloud of bubbles which almost completely covered her. She could hear Snape laughing through it, her mother challenging him. 

“Don’t think you are getting away with nothing.”

There was an indignant shout before his laughing continued and in only a few seconds they were all sodden and out of breath. 

“Right that’s enough, have to finally do these dishes. Think my hands have been busy enough now.”

She pulled her wand out, flicking it in the air and the dishes all started cleaning themselves by her magic. Her wand was next aimed at Isolde and she was dried off immediately in a puff of warm air, squealing in delight at the sensation. Snape had already sorted himself out as she dried herself as well. 

Snape seemed awkwardly stiff as he spoke, as if compensating for the few moments of levity. 

“I think I better be heading off now, thank you for the dinner.”

“Are you sure?”

Her mother seemed surprised at this sudden declaration although it was hardly out of character for the professor. Isolde wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.

“You can play some games with us before you go. We have a few magic and muggle games but most of them are better with more than two players. And I think she always lets me win anyway.”

He seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking his head. “Maybe next time. It won’t be long before it’s dark, it’s definitely time I leave.”

“What about tomorrow?”

Her mother shushed her whining, now seeming to accept his excuse. “I hope it won’t be too long until we see you again. I know you’ll be busy at school but before Christmas at least?”

“Christmas?!”

Snape smirked at her outburst, her mother looked much less amused.

“I will try my very best to visit before then. Of course, you are always welcome to come visit us, as I know you remember we have a number of Hogsmeade visits during the term.”

Her mother scowled at the suggestion. “We will see you before Christmas then. You’ll have to let us know when you are free.”

  
“I will.”

He summoned the cloak he had hung up on his way in. 

“Thank you for the present. You better visit soon.” She ran up to him, her arms up. “Hug time.”

She almost enjoyed how uncomfortable it made him. Since she was young she had insisted on such affection despite his obvious reticence, for his part he had never refused her though. 

She gave him a squeeze, he almost lifted her off the tips of her toes. She smirked, rather pleased with herself when her mother also gave him a very quick hug. 

“I’ll send the stuff with Dumbledore tomorrow and stay out of trouble. I’ll have him look into your security as well, just make sure nothing stupid happens in the meantime.” He gave her mother a meaningful look before turning back to her. “And have a good party.”

“I will.”

With that he slung his cloak over himself and walked out the door. They watched him disappear down the path, he would disapparate when he was far enough away. 

“Now Isolde, you have one hour before your bath then bed. Do you want to play with your new toy or a game?”

“A game, I can play with the toys when Dora is here tomorrow.”

“You can go and find which one you want then, let me know when you’re done.”

“Gobstones!”

Her mother sighed in exasperation. “You were meant to look through them, to see which one took your fancy.”

“But that’s the one I want to play.”

She laughed in disbelief. “Alright then, you go and set it up and I’ll join you in a minute.”

As usual when they played games together, it passed very quickly and it took a reminder that she was now too old for such behaviour, to stop her from whining when it was announced it was time for her bath. 

She finally joined her mother upstairs, reluctant to get into the huge bubbly bath but as soon as she was settled, it was only when the water had started to turn cold that she got out. 

“Come on now, we have to get you to bed at some stage. If you keep postponing it, you’ll only eat into your story time.”

She grabbed the giant fluffy towel, wrapping it around Isolde when she stood out of the water. 

“Brrr.”

Her mother practically smothered her in the towel, drying her off in a cloud of fluff. 

“Right, put your pyjamas on then go into your room and choose which story you want before bed. Don’t doddle now, I’ll join you in a couple of minutes and I expect you to be in bed.”

She pulled on the warmed purple pyjamas that had been left out for her by Inish. She headed to her room, barely glancing at her collection of stories on the bookshelf. She already knew that she didn’t want one of the stories she already knew off by heart. Every so often, usually when she managed to catch her mother in a good mood, she was able to persuade her to tell one of her own stories instead. She was hoping after they’d had a visitor, that she would be much more willing to give in.

Isolde climbed into bed, tucking the blankets around herself and making sure her cuddly owl Tyto was close beside her. Her mother, seeming to sense that she was ready, popped into the room. She flicked her wand and the night light in the corner sprung into life, a magical pattern of animals shadow travelling around the room and the main light switched off. 

“So which one do you want then?”

She made her way to the bookshelf, looking through them all as if she couldn’t recite them all by heart now. 

“Mum?” She picked at her blanket almost nervously, sometimes her mother was upset when requested to tell her tales. “Is it alright if I hear one of your stories instead?”

Her mother paused, her fingers tracing the spine of one of the colourful books on the shelf before turning to her. 

“I suppose that would be alright.”

Isolde tried her best to hide her excitement but sat up more despite herself. 

“Now come on, this is supposed to get you settled for bed. Down.”

Her mother came over to her, fluffing up the pillows behind her before encouraging her to lie back. She took a seat on the edge of her bed, wrapping an arm above her head so that her hand was able to stroke her cheek. 

“How about I tell you about your uncle, for whom you’re named?”

“I’m named for my grandmother.”

Her mother gave a small chuckle. “Yes, for my mother. But your middle name, Isolde Regina Black, was for my cousin. He was one of -.”

“The bravest men you ever knew.” 

It wasn’t the first time she had heard this story and she found the almost near reverent tone in her mothers voice a little ominous. She knew her mother loved to talk of her cousin but she knew it always made her sad as well. She struggled to understand her mothers attachment to a story which seemed to always make her so melancholic when she had experienced such exciting other adventures. 

“Oh but what about the giant, or the werewolves, or the vampire… What about the evil monster that kept you locked up?”

“Shh. Don’t say that.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder gently. “I want you to understand, that man - he was an evil, cruel, lonely man. The things he did were monstrous but he was no monster, he was a terrible man. But just a man.”

Isolde sat in silence for a few moments, sorry she had said such a thing. She didn’t really understand why it had annoyed her mother in such a way. She had read snippets of the things the dark wizard had done, heard the adults talking about horrors in hushed tones. Dora had even told her that he had killed her mother. 

She thought that sounded exactly like something a monster would do but she wasn’t going to argue with her mother. 

“After he was killed, the Order started to round up the last of his ardent followers. They wanted to make the place safe for everyone. Dumbledore asked me to come to Hogwarts, he thought it would be too dangerous for me to go to St Mungo’s to get checked over. I was there in the infirmary before Dumbledore came to see me.”

“With the stone?”

“Yes. He told me he had kept the relics to investigate. He brought me a magical stone. He told me he wanted to start getting rid of each of the items, so that they would not be a source of temptation or some sort of item to be worshipped. The stone was one of the last he wanted to get rid of but he thought he would offer me a chance first.”

“He told me it was the resurrection stone, it was already imbued with magical powers before it was destroyed. That it could bring back those who had died to the land of the living. They couldn’t stay long, they didn’t belong in our world, that it was unnatural. He said it was the only thing he could offer me, as a kind of reward or something for everything that had happened. That I could have fifteen minutes to bring back anyone I wanted. That he had to set such a boundary as the power of it was too tempting for even the strongest resolve.”

“Of course, I thought this was just ridiculous. I didn’t believe him at all. I thought it was just a cruel trick he was playing on me.”

“He gave the stone to me anyway, he gave me sometime to think about who I would like to see one more time, to have one last conversation with. It wasn’t the easiest decision, there was so many people I cared about that were killed in the war.”

She paused for a moment, her deep concentration didn’t seem like it was ever going to break. Of course, it eventually did, her tone much more up beat with her memory. 

“In the end, there was only one person I could chose, my dear little cousin Regulus. The poor boy had fallen into the wrong side, but he had a good heart. He recognised the error of his decisions, that he couldn’t keep going on with the side he was on. He made a choice to help, he fought against the darkness, if it hadn’t been for him, no one would ever have figured out what was needed to win the war.”

“I was anxious but I didn’t want to get my hopes up, I didn’t really believe the stone would work the way Dumbledore said it would. But there he was, almost like a ghost, but strangely more solid. He seemed younger to me then, even though it hadn’t been that long since I’d seen him. As if all his innocence return to him when he died.”

Her voice was thick with emotion now. Isolde turned slightly to wrap her arm more completely around her mother who was petting her long curls. She didn’t like when her mother became so sad at remembering her cousin, she thought it was a shame she had never met him. She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to lose a cousin, she would be devastated if Dora was no longer in her life. 

“I just started crying. I thought that I was going to be so articulate but I just couldn’t cope at all. He understood, he always seem to know the right thing to do. He just wrapped his arms around me. It wasn’t the same of course, he was so cold, though so solid. It was enough though, I knew it was him.”

Isolde could feel herself being lulled gently by her mothers story, she almost knew it by heart. 

“We talked. I told him what had happened, that the war was finally over. I told him what I did. He was happy, he was glad that what he had sacrificed had come to something. He was worried about me though.”

She stroked her arm down to her hand, linking hers over Isolde’s. 

“You know he was the first person I told about you, my love. I was so scared about what was going to happen and what I should do. I thought it would be impossible for me to look after you, that they may try to separate us. I had no idea what the right thing was to do. I didn’t even know how you happened, I didn’t remember, I just knew you were there, waiting for me to accept.”

Her mother talked this way often, Isolde was well aware of the danger they were both in. She didn’t understand half the things her mother spoke of but she was so thankful that they had been able to stay together. 

“Well my love, he gave me the greatest advice. For the first time in a long time, he made me feel safe. I loved him so much, it nearly tore me apart when I had to give him up again. It was the shortest time we had together. I so wish you could have met him.”

So did Isolde. From the way her mother talked about him, he sounded as if he would have been the greatest uncle. She knew it would have been good for her mother to have proper family around. 

“Mother?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

She felt her mother shifting to squeeze her tight in a hug. “I love you too Petal. Now it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

Despite her mothers words, she stayed where she was for a few moments, neither of them shifting. 

“I think maybe I’ll stay in here tonight.”

Isolde turn to look up at her mother. “Really?”

She was given a short nod in response. Her mother often chose to stay in with her although as she was getting older, it had become less frequent. Isolde liked it though, it was comforting to have her mother so close and she was sure her mother felt similarly. It hadn’t gone without her notice that it was usually after some kind of tumult that they stayed together in her room. 

“Come on, shift up.”

Isolde moved over to one side, allowing her mother to climb under the cover. When they were both under, she turned around to curl into her mother who wrapped an arm around her. The light was dimmed by her mothers magic and Isolde whispered to her. 

“It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

“I know, I remember well enough.”

“What was it like when I was born?”

She felt her mother sigh heavily, the way she did when Isolde always asked questions that she didn’t really want to give the answer to. 

“It was difficult. Having a baby is very painful for mothers and I was scared. Very few people knew you were being delivered into the world. When I saw you though, I fell in love almost immediately. It made me more scared though, I knew that there would be people that would want to hurt you but I swore I would do anything I could to look after you.”

“So you were happy I was born?”

“Always.” She gave her a tighter squeeze for a moment. “Now sleep, dream about tomorrow.”

It didn’t take her long at all to drift off to sleep.

 

 


End file.
